Wine for Dinner
by Writeress
Summary: LAST CHAPTER! Sequel to Champagne in the Morning. Helga returns from London with a fiancee, the perfect man. But what will she do when she is drawn to someone she shouldn't be drawn to? What if she finds herself in a sensual, but risky, affair?
1. Chapter One

Well, for some reason my account got all destroyed, so, I have to repost this story..eh, this sucks a long hard throbbing...eh never mind...okay...uh...there go my thirty five reviews for this one and 121 for CIM down the drain. Oh well, I better get them all back or else!!! PLEASE????  
  
  
  
  
  
Well, since so many people actually liked Champagne in the Morning, I decided to write something else similar, and what better than a sequel? I don't really believe in sequels, but, whatever. I'll just try this out and see if it goes anywhere. If I don't get any response I'll just stop writing. I hate writing something for nobody to read. It makes me feel really worthless (I've got an underrated value system,lol)  
  
I do not own the show "Hey Arnold" or any of its characters. Occasionally, there will be one or two derived from the midst of my highly unoriginal imagination, but, trust me, I'm not rushing to copyright. Okay, here goes:  
  
  
  
Chapter 1  
  
  
  
Life couldn't be more perfect for Helga G Pataki. She knew she had it all. A great boyfriend who cared, a beautiful villa just outside of London, a promising, exciting career, and a closet of shoes to fit her every need. When she thought back to her old self, her self of three years ago, a chill would run down her spine. The very idea, that she, Helga G Pataki, was unhappy, that she, Helga G Pataki, needed therapy. She envisioned herself, on this very plane, on this very airline, heading back, heading where she used to be. She remembered it all, and she had to close her eyes in embarrassment. Helga was much younger a year ago, less mature, less certain about life. She had too much pressure put on her, BBB, her father's phone company with its numerous indiscretions, her loneliness, her poor social skills, and her burning passion for him.  
  
She rarely remembered him lately, the way he'd changed over the years, the way he had become a man. He was the only man then who'd ever showed true interest in her, and, perhaps, that was why she was so foolish as to fall into his arms when she was at her weakest. Could one really blame a woman for trusting a man with her heart? Could one really call her a fool, disprove of her, scold her, spurn her, just for loving? It was not her fault that his reasons were never pristine, that he never cared that she was human, that a heart was beating in her breast. It did not concern him, in his heart were only fancies of regret, of hate, of revenge. That was no way to live, that was a way to die. Maybe he was already dead when he encountered her a year ago, which would explain his coldness, his heartlessness. To think that Helga ever loved him! No, she did not love him; she loved a derived phantasm of perfection that she perceived as being him. She did not love the Arnold of the present; she loved the Arnold of the past. How easily time could deceive a soul.  
  
He was alive somewhere, breathing, living, somewhere out there Arnold still existed. But Helga was living a separate life, and it was foreign to her, that feeling. She was happy, and he was probably alone. He would have to have been alone, for, he could never keep someone by him. He could never put trust into intimacy. What woman would go for a man who wasn't fit to be a man? He was still a boy, and she almost felt bad for him. But, eventually, Helga would remember the hurt that he'd bestowed upon her, and her mind would become blank and irretrievable yet again. She'd moved on, and she almost wished that he did not. She wanted him to dwell on the past, to be hurt at the sight of her successful, while he carried on in his old fashion.  
  
"What are you thinking about?" Noah Armato asked, leaning his head closer to her face and looking at the stars of the nighttime sky. They had boarded the plain over seven hours ago, and he was beginning to worry, that, during the duration of the flight, Helga had uttered but three phrases. Two had to do with food, and one with the pretty landscape below.  
  
"Oh," She smiled, and turned his way, their noses touching, "I'm just thinking about the town. It must have changed since I was there."  
  
"I'm sure it has," Noah smiled, Helga adored his easygoing tone, his posh English accent, "Phoebe told you so."  
  
"That's right," Helga smiled, placing her head on Noah's shoulder, his dirty blonde, burnt out, naturally highlighted hair brushed against her cheek. She smiled at the sensation.  
  
"We'll be there soon, and you will see what's happened."  
  
"I've told you a lot about my past, Noah," Helga said.  
  
She had, and he had understood. Perhaps that was why she loved him so much. Helga met Noah in a cliché situation. After a business meeting, they began to talk over a cup of coffee. It was not a lengthy conversation, however, it was promising. They arranged to met for a drink in the evening, and things took off since then. He was an amazing listener, and when time came for advice, no one could do better than him. She loved the sweet, soothing vibrations of his voice, as they tickled her earlobe in a pleasant way. They were direct opposites, Helga liked to talk, Noah liked to listen, Helga liked to lead, and Noah liked to follow. For everything he did not have, she filled in the blank. For anything she was deplete of, he completed the mold perfectly. It was a match made in heaven, the perfect relationship that had long, powerful roots. She kept, in this time, but one thing from him. She kept Arnold out of her stories. Helga felt it would be better that way.  
  
"I know there is something troubling you about the place, you've never quite specified what, but I'm sure it must have been a lot for you to hate that place so much."  
  
"Yes," Helga sighed, and looked out of the window, "It was a lot." Arnold's face appeared in her mind and she tried her best to blot it out. Who cared that he was still there? Helga was not going to run into him, not again. She would avoid him at all costs. Besides, she was no longer alone, she had Noah to protect her.  
  
"I'm glad you decided to go to Phoebe's wedding. It was kind of you," Noah smiled, "I could tell she wanted you to."  
  
"Yes," Helga said, "That was the only reason I decided to go, she was my best friend always, and she constantly supported me even through the worst."  
  
"You're lucky," Noah smiled, "Growing up, I always had many friends, but never any that stuck into adulthood."  
  
Helga had only one, and felt proud of the preservation. It was strange how good Noah made her feel about herself. With his clear, blue eyes, he could penetrate her inner soul, and heal her of even the worst disappointments.  
  
"Thank you for being so understanding," Helga said after a pause, "I'm glad you're here with me."  
  
"Yes," Noah smiled, "But I'm sure Jenkins wasn't."  
  
Jenkins was the vice president of the company in which Helga had invested a large sum of her money. It was a PR firm, quite successful, of which the latter was also the CEO. Noah was a close associate, a PR specialist for a popular television station in Britain, and he had plenty to do with Helga's line of work. Hers was always his choice when it came to public relations. They made a dynamic duo, both, in love and in business. Frankly said the two needed one another.  
  
When Helga and Noah decided to leave for the week, the very week that a new TV show was launching on the station, both sides began to worry. It was not impossibly to produce good publicity without the main minds, however, it was quite unlikely too. But Helga did not care. Her best friend was getting married, and she would be at the ceremony no matter what. When her boyfriend decided to accompany her, Helga felt amazingly good about herself.  
  
"I know," she smiled, "but he'll pull through it. Besides, we will keep constant contact over the phone."  
  
"That's not the same thing as being there in person," Noah said, almost worried, "we have some utter fuckwits running things there, not everyone in England is an intelligent chap."  
  
"Put some trust into people," Helga smiled, bringing her face closer to him, "the way you did in me."  
  
"Some investments I just had to take," he whispered and his lips touched hers.  
  
After they separated, Helga smiled. She loved his lips, they were soft and inviting, innocent and pleasant. She could spend the rest of her life kissing those sweet lips. With a warm feeling in her heart, Helga pressed her head against Noah's chest and closed her eyes. Before long, she was in deep slumber.  
  
  
  
"She's marrying," Gerald said, looking over the pond in the park, as he and Arnold drank coffee during the early Saturday afternoon, "she's marrying him, how can she possibly do that to me?"  
  
Arnold looked at him in amazement, "Gerald, I can't believe you're still not over that."  
  
"What can I say? It's been a lousy week."  
  
"What about Lila?" Arnold asked, trying to hide the bitterness in his voice. It was no secret that he'd felt intense jealousy at the very thought of Gerald with the woman he had always loved. True, Helga had changed something in him. Helga had lessened, for some unfathomed reason, the intensity of the way he felt about the pretty brunette that eternally haunted him with her beauty. To say more, for a month or so, Helga had actually made him forget about Lila. But, soon enough, his true emotions began to show once more, and he could not stand the pressure he had felt whenever he saw Gerald and her holding hands. Arnold refused to end his friendship with Gerald over a woman, even if it was Lila. After all, to Arnold, as years past, women would come into your life and leave. Friends, however, true friends, stayed forever. No woman, not even Lila, could understand Arnold the way Gerald did, in a quiet, unspoken murmur, he gave advice and took it.  
  
The soft rays of the morning sun enveloped the two frames and they sat along one another on a bench, both longing for a long lost love.  
  
"Lila," Gerald sighed, "It was obvious from the beginning that that would not work out. She was too tied up to Jonathan, Jonathan and his damn perfection."  
  
"Perfection, eh?" Arnold laughed, "Nah, I don't think it was perfection she was after. I think it was just familiarity, just habit."  
  
"Neither of us ever stood a chance, eh?" Gerald sighed, "A marrying woman never divorces."  
  
"I thought they said that about marrying men."  
  
Gerald gazed into the depth of the leafless shrubbery, "what's the damn difference?"  
  
"The damn difference is," Arnold sighed, "that despite whatever goes on, the woman is always going to be victimized, and that will always make the man wrong."  
  
"I thought it was not good to be victimized."  
  
"It's not good to be wrong either."  
  
Gerald took a sip of the dark consistency from the paper cup, "Which is worse?"  
  
"Well," Arnold mused, "Would you rather have people pity you or scorn you?"  
  
"Don't make me answer that."  
  
Arnold sighed, "And now you're tripping over your dick thinking about Phoebe, but she's not thinking about you. She was right and you were wrong, and that's just it."  
  
Gerald laughed, "That's a funny thing of putting it, almost as if you know the feeling."  
  
"I did a shitty thing to Helga once, and I felt bad afterward, I really did." Arnold looked at his leather shoes, "Suppose you're wrong. And I guess that if you're wrong you've got to make things right. But---"  
  
"But" Gerald supplied, "you'd be damned before you admit that you are wrong."  
  
"You're juggling two women at once, and I'm just living the way I did before. How has life changed for me, really?" Arnold sighed.  
  
"Maybe" his friend paused, "before Helga you never thought that there was anything wrong with your life."  
  
"What makes you say that?" Arnold questioned.  
  
Gerald smiled, "you ever think of that ugly four letter word women like to flaunt around like diamond earrings?"  
  
"Sometimes."  
  
"You ever curse that word?"  
  
"Every once in a while."  
  
"You curse at it while thinking of Lila?"  
  
"Nah."  
  
Arnold looked down and Gerald smiled in triumph.  
  
"She'll probably be at Phoebe's wedding," Gerald said, "Helga, not Lila."  
  
"Yeah," Arnold replied, "I kind of figured that."  
  
"Do you care?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
"You're a bad liar," Gerald smiled.  
  
"I lead my own life now, and she has nothing to do with it."  
  
"She affected your own life, she's been affecting it since you were seventeen."  
  
Arnold looked at Gerald harshly, "I was wrong, and she was right. The usual."  
  
"You were wrong for victimizing her."  
  
"Yeah," Arnold mumbled under his breath, "bitch." 


	2. Chapter Two

I like getting reviews, so, I decided to formulate a plan as to how to get people to review. People react well to polls, right? So, every chapter, I'll have a new poll. Okay, here goes.  
  
Every day I have a grooming ritual. It consists of the following.  
  
Wake up  
  
Lie around in bed for about an hour  
  
Stumble out of bed  
  
Lie back down  
  
Stumble out of bed again  
  
Look at self in mirror for fifteen minutes  
  
Brush teeth  
  
Wash face with cleanser  
  
Apply expensive visage cream found in Mom's bathroom  
  
Brush hair relentlessly and compulsively for five minutes  
  
Take shower  
  
Wash hair  
  
Marvel at self nude in front of mirror for fifteen minutes  
  
Apply moisturizer  
  
Marvel at self nude in front of mirror some more for fifteen minutes  
  
Marvel at self getting dressed in some morning clothes (red, oversized tank top and pink panties) for five minutes  
  
Marvel at self dressed for three minutes  
  
Eat breakfast (last night's dinner) while watching early morning HBO on the couch downstairs while giving self manicure and talking on the phone with random telemarketer.  
  
Go upstairs, blow dry hair  
  
Put on make up  
  
Marvel at face for twenty minutes.  
  
Undress from morning clothes  
  
Marvel at self nude  
  
Put on bra, marvel at self in bra  
  
Put on clothing  
  
Go to master bathroom and check myself out in various positions for fifteen minutes  
  
Pack my purse with my makeup, hairbrush, pencil, etc...  
  
Go into downstairs bathroom, apply more lipstick since the old coat is starting to fade  
  
Kiss my kitty a billion trillion gazillion times until have to reapply lipstick again.  
  
Oh shit! I'm late for school!!!!  
  
It takes me more than three hours to get ready for school in the morning, I have like ADD or something... Anyway, I'm lucky for now because for a reason that I will not go into explaining my school starts a 12:30 right now. Next week though, I'll be in one hell of trouble. Anyways, the poll question.  
  
What do you think about me revealing my morning grooming ritual?  
  
OMG I thought cloning was illegal! A  
  
A little too much information...just a bit... B  
  
What size bra are you? C  
  
I hate you! D  
  
Don't really care, I pretty much always skip over this part anyway. E  
  
I'm your boyfriend and we need to have a serious talk. F  
  
  
  
Now, if you want to answer my amazing poll, you can leave the letter of your answer in the comments section (wink wink.) If you have something to say about the story, say that too. If you don't, just answer the question, damn it.  
  
Gotta bounce!  
  
  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Lila sat on a barstool, looking into empty space, running her finger over the smooth opening of the glass. Her face had sorrow on it, and her mind was racing. This was not the proper scenario. Was it not the man who had to sit in a bar getting drunk, getting drunk because there was no other way to escape, no other way to solve the problem? But Jonathan was at home, Jonathan was the happy housewife and Lila was the drunk. Yet another argument, yet another ordeal. It pained her and for a moment, she felt as if her head was about to burst. Life was so unfair sometimes, so cruel to those who couldn't handle it. Lila hated to think that she was incompetent for the task, but she was, and there was not escaping that. Jonathan was the one who had escaped her grasp long ago, the communication in their marriage had assimilated into thin air, and she longed for someone to understand her. Lila's face stiffened as she remembered Gerald, Gerald with his simple approach, his laid back way of reacting to even the worst of predicaments. What was she thinking on that night when she said goodbye? What was she thinking?  
  
For a moment, Lila wanted to blame Jonathan. It was him and his pressure that made her feel so indecisive. It was Jonathan who told her that she could not live without him, it was Jonathan who made her feel uneven, restrained, controlled. Lila hated feeling controlled; the very agitation frightened her to edge of her seat. It was not as if he really cared about her, he only cared about his public persona, about what everyone would think if the perfect couple fell apart. What kind of inspiration would that be? She didn't want to guess.  
  
The bartender approached and she looked up sheepishly. The young man studied her pretty face, dipped in agony, and his own visage tightened. He didn't quite imagine such a beautiful creature could ever be in some sort of despair. The little brunette who studied him with sad exasperation struck a chord somewhere within. Many people passed through his father's bar, but none held his attention the way did the little princess.  
  
"I'd like another scotch and tonic," Lila mumbled heavily. Still studying her attractiveness with bewilderment, it took the young bartender a moment to comprehend her request. When he did, however, the drink was brought almost immediately.  
  
She sighed sheepishly as he placed it onto the counter before her, and pressed her fingers around the glass. The brown eyes closed, and she gulped down its consistency within moments. The bartender looked at her in fascination.  
  
"Bad day?" he asked, looking around. The bar was empty, except for a few pitiful drunks that crunched in several corners.  
  
"Bad lifetime," she said softly, almost inaudibly, and he leaned his hand in to better comprehend the little voice. The smell of alcohol came from Lila's mouth but the bartender did not care. It was intermixed with a sort of sweetness that could easily act as an aphrodisiac.  
  
"Why's that?" he stood up and began to clean dirty cups.  
  
"It's a long story," she muttered.  
  
"The night is young," he smiled.  
  
"What's your name?" Lila looked up for the first time, and he felt transfixed at her angelic gaze.  
  
"Bob," the bartender replied.  
  
"Ha!" she exclaimed loudly, "you were made for this job."  
  
"I can't help but be proud of it," Bob smiled, not taking his gaze off hers.  
  
Lila nodded, "So, Bob, you deal with a bunch of cases like me?"  
  
"Like you? Nah, I don't think I've ever dealt with anyone quite like you before."  
  
She paused, "What makes me so special?"  
  
"You're very pretty, that's enough in itself."  
  
Lila smiled, twisting a strand of her hair with her thumb and forefinger, "Well, Bartender Bob," she said, "Are you hitting on me?"  
  
"I never hit on women under alcoholic influence. It always leads to trouble."  
  
"I'm quite the troublesome gal," she smiled, "I am trouble."  
  
"My point exactly," Bob said and began to dry the cups with a white towel. A silence prevailed for a few minutes, accompanied by the smooth jazz in the background and occasional moans of the sleazy customers.  
  
"I'm married, you know," Lila said at last, impatient, wanting to pour herself out to someone.  
  
"A pretty girl like you," Bob smiled, "why wouldn't you be at such a delicate age?"  
  
"Delicate?"  
  
"You know," he sighed, "the age when your life is made up for you."  
  
"I want to make up my own life," Lila said softly, "I don't want someone else to do it for me."  
  
"Most people are different from you. What was that Russian book? The one that said humans wanted someone else to do things for them?"  
  
"I don't know," Lila smiled, "I don't believe in books. Words on paper, what do they know about life?"  
  
"Do you know about life?"  
  
"I like to think so," she said bitterly, "It's funny how you can spend your whole life trying to learn it, but, in the end you realize that no lessons are found."  
  
"You don't learn?"  
  
"I have a learning disability when it comes to decisions. Every time I always make the same mistake I made last time," she paused and requested another drink, he quickly mixed it and she took a sip, "every time I think it's going to be different. It never is and I continue to lie that there is still possibility to make it work."  
  
"You have faith in people," Bob mused, "that can't be such a bad thing."  
  
"It is when you have too much faith. I don't believe in faith anymore."  
  
Bob leaned against the bar, his face close to hers, as he saw small tears rolling out of her eyes.  
  
"You're crying," he said slowly.  
  
"No," Lila said, "I'm not."  
  
He reached his hand out reproachfully, and touched her cheek, his body shaking. The small hill of salty water broke apart and hugged the inclination of his finger.  
  
"You are," he said.  
  
Instinctively, Lila pulled her head back and reached for the drink, "No, I'm not. Tears don't really mean that a person is crying. Sometimes, tears just come out for no reason at all, just because you've got too much water in your system, and not enough substance to cry it out."  
  
Bob sighed, "This husband of yours, is he a bad guy?"  
  
"No," Lila said hastily, "He's actually the perfect man, and that's what I hate most. I'm like a little tree stumped in his shadow, as long as I'm with him, I matter. When I leave him, I'll be blamed by the entire town."  
  
There was momentary silence.  
  
"What's your name?" he asked.  
  
"Lila," she said, "My name is Lila."  
  
"That's a beautiful name."  
  
Lila smiled, "get me a glass of water."  
  
With a good-natured grin, Bob walked to the opposite side of the bar and poured tap water into a glass filled with ice. He returned with a kind expression on his face only to discover that Lila was gone. A burst of disappointment ran through him, and, with a sigh, he poured the water into a sink. Elusively, the liquid quickly found its way down the drain.  
  
  
  
  
  
"This is a good hotel," Noah said, opening his suitcase and taking out a neatly folded, light blue shirt. Helga resided in a chair, her long legs crossed, her head tilted back. She was resting after the strenuous day. They had gotten to their room only ten minutes earlier. Already, persistent Noah was organizing his life.  
  
"I just don't see why you have to do this now," Helga sighed, mock irritation in her voice, "why can't we just sleep?"  
  
"Oh," Noah smiled, "You're in one of THOSE moods."  
  
"What do you mean those moods?"  
  
"Well," he smiled, "remember that time you got pissed off the sex on the beaches and spent the next day walking around my apartment with a gruesome expression on your face and prairie oysters in hand, saying terrible things?"  
  
"Yes..."  
  
"You're somewhat like that now."  
  
She sighed, "I need a cigarette."  
  
"Oh you're not going to light up a fag in here, are you?" Noah asked.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Well, it's such a nice room, you wouldn't want it all to smell like smoke would you?"  
  
Helga sighed, "I'll step out, then."  
  
Noah looked at her longingly, "Are you annoyed?"  
  
"Well," she said, "I'm not pleased."  
  
"Fine! Go ahead and smoke, I don't quite care, really!"  
  
Helga looked down and back up again, she realized that she was compromising her relationship over lung cancer.  
  
"I'll step out," she said, and put a smile on her face for assurance.  
  
Noah watched her leave, and, as the door opened before her thin frame, felt himself uttering, "I love you."  
  
Helga stopped for a moment, not turning back, and then continued out the door into the hall. She found herself smiling uncontrollably. This was the first time he'd ever said those magic words. 


	3. Chapter Three

A short one, I'm getting bored, and lazy...and I actually have a life!!!!  
  
In case you have trouble picturing Noah, I'll tell you how I see him. He's like Chad from 2gether, the actor's real name is Noah (wonder why I chose that name) I think he was so gorgeous, and so funny, I was like in love with him. Too bad they canceled that show, it was really good. I guess they couldn't continue because of QT. I felt so bad for him, it was the saddest thing ever.  
  
I'm doing gigantic biology homework while simultaneously writing three stories at once. My hands are kind of tied, but I've got the perfect poll for the story. Okay...seriously, these questions make NO freaking sense to me! Poll for the weak...I mean week...here goes...  
  
  
  
Why does a reduction reaction always accompany an oxidation reaction?  
  
I don't know...A  
  
Because I said so...B  
  
Because...C  
  
Because reduction reaction is afraid oxidation reaction might be cheating on him...D  
  
Because reactions that are transferred between atoms are known as reduction- oxidation reactions, or redox reactions. In an oxidation reaction, a reactant loses one or more electrons, thus becoming more positive in charge. In a reduction reaction, a reactant gains one or more electrons, thus becoming more negative in charge. Redox reactions always occur together. An oxidation reaction occurs, and the electron given up by one substance is then accepted by another substance in a reduction reaction...E  
  
Eh. Another one of your stupid polls...F  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Noah sat at the bar of the diner, a cup of tea in front of him, and an order of salad being prepared. He felt lonely on this particular afternoon. Helga had gone to see Phoebe, refusing to take him with her under the excuse that it was a "girl-thing" and since he was tired of getting room service, Noah decided to explore the city.  
  
First, he visited the art museum, looking at the paintings with his artistic eye and acknowledging the artists grip. Afterward, he wandered throughout, looking at sights, wondering about the urban decay, glancing at his bypasses. America differed from England in many ways, but he liked the simplicity, cheery barbarism that it presented. There was youth, radiating within. Noah had a good relationship with youth.  
  
Across from the bar, sat a leggy brunette, her eyes radiating, not leaving his frame. He disregarded it. Helga was so much more beautiful in every way.  
  
  
  
Helga smiled, seeing her friend for the first time in a while. They broke into laughter and rushed into one another's arms. Phoebe looked healthier now than she did last year. Her body was more full, and her face was colored in a beautiful pink tint. Her smile was wide, revealing white, straight teeth, and he eyes were glistening with radiance. Helga loved seeing this, in comparison to Phoebe's sickly image only a year ago.  
  
After the greeting was complete, Phoebe sat Helga onto the beige couch inside of her stylish loft and poured a glass of Martini to celebrate the arrival. They looked at one another without a word for a few seconds and then once again broke into laughter.  
  
"You sure are giggly today," said Phoebe, "You never used to be like that."  
  
Helga began playing with her hair, folding one long leg under her bottom, "I never used to be quite so happy."  
  
"Happy, huh?" Phoebe smiled and took a sip of her drink, "happy how?"  
  
"I've told you all about it, Phoebe, over the phone," Helga smiled.  
  
"I know, but you don't think I've ever actually listened," Phoebe smiled and the two broke into laughter.  
  
Noah pecked at his food, slowly chewing, enjoying the afternoon, but feeling a little bit perplexed by loneliness. At this moment, he wished greatly to have someone to talk to. In England, Noah had many friends, he was quite likeable, and everyone enjoyed his company. It seemed almost frightening for him to be in a new place where he knew no one, where he could talk to no one except for Helga. Though she was amazing, Noah longed for the male understanding that women were simply unable to provide. He could not believe his luck when Arnold sat next to him and ordered a drink.  
  
Arnold lit up a cigarette, a cloud of smoke filled around the two, and Noah looked at Arnold with a pleasant smile.  
  
"Are those things enjoyable?" he asked.  
  
Arnold turned to him in confusion, trying to figure out, for a moment, what it was that this strange man was talking about. Noah's smile brought him a little bit at ease, although he generally hated happy people.  
  
"What things?" Arnold asked.  
  
"Oh," Noah said, "fags."  
  
Arnold looked at him for a moment, trying to understand.  
  
"Cigarettes, I'm sorry," Noah continued, "I am not well accustomed with American slang and I see you are the same with mine."  
  
"Cigarettes?" Arnold asked, "They're generally pleasant, but highly addictive."  
  
"Maybe that's why I've never tried," Noah smiled, drinking his tea, "because I'm afraid I wouldn't be strong enough to quit when necessity compels me."  
  
"I don't see quittage in my near future," Arnold said, "so it doesn't really bother me much."  
  
"I wish I were like you, then, you seem quite brave of a fellow."  
  
Arnold widened his eyes, this man that was speaking to him now was quite strange, "Thank you, I guess."  
  
"Yes, you're welcome," Noah smiled, "are you all alone then?"  
  
"What?" Arnold asked.  
  
"Is there perhaps some gentleman you are here to see?"  
  
Arnold felt nervousness creep over him, and moved into the farthest corner of his seat, "No," he said, "No gentleman."  
  
"Great!" Noah smiled with excitement.  
  
Arnold backed farther away.  
  
"You know," Noah said, "I'm here alone too."  
  
"Oh, no kidding..." Arnold stumbled.  
  
"Yes," Noah smiled, "my girlfriend is off somewhere, and I don't know anything about this town, I really wanted somebody to talk to."  
  
"Talk?" Arnold said, relaxing for a moment, "Girlfriend?"  
  
"Yes," Noah said, "The reason I asked about the cigarettes is because she smokes too, and she says she enjoys it a lot. I just wanted to know if it was true."  
  
"You're missing out," Arnold smiled, positioning himself properly in the chair, "It's good, it's good while it lasts." His cigarette was slowly burning down. He reached into his pocket and took out a pack, handing it to Noah, "You want one?"  
  
"Maybe someday I'll try it," Noah said, "but not today."  
  
"Suit yourself," Arnold smiled and placed it back into his jacket, "so, do you like it here?"  
  
"It's nice," Noah smiled awkwardly, "very exotic compared to my usual surroundings."  
  
Arnold nodded, "I rarely leave the city myself, so the rest of the world seems that way to me."  
  
"I would think you were quite well traveled by the way you dress, you most certainly do not resemble a naivete'."  
  
Arnold grinned for the first time, "Maybe I'll travel the world someday. Truth is though that it's not very fun unless you do it with someone else. There's no one else for me."  
  
"That's sad," Noah sighed, "I almost can't imagine being without someone else. I've always been with someone else."  
  
"I have until a certain point," Arnold paused, "I used to have the world...I don't know why I'm saying this to a complete stranger..."  
  
"A girl I've once been with used to say that I had that sort of face, made you want to talk and talk until you were all talked out."  
  
"Yeah," Arnold sighed, "maybe that's it."  
  
"So, tell me then, whatever it was that you wanted to say. You've had the world and..."  
  
"And then it all just went away," Arnold reached for another cigarette, "and for a while, I blamed someone for it. And then that someone moved on while I dwelled about it. And then that someone returned, and I wanted them to care that I still cared, and I tried to make them care by making them lose their whole world too. But, in the end, I was the one who lost everything. Again. Or maybe I didn't...maybe I just had nothing to lose."  
  
"Was that someone a woman?" Noah asked.  
  
"More than a woman," Arnold sighed. Suddenly, his phone rang and he picked it up. After a fifteen second talk with his boss, Arnold flipped shut the contraption and placed a crisp bill on the table.  
  
"I have to go," he said, "Can't get a decent lunch break even on a Saturday. It was nice meeting you."  
  
Noah looked into the man's weary eyes and knew that he would talk no longer. He wanted to help, he wanted to make things better for this stranger, this intriguing, sad stranger. He was the sort of man who liked helping people, even if it brought nothing to him, even if it caused agitation. That was just the kind of man Noah was. Upon seeing Noah, Arnold almost winced of a strange familiarity.  
  
"Listen," Noah said, "How would you like to meet for dinner once? While we're still in town?"  
  
Arnold contemplated it for a moment, already knowing the answer, "Okay, sounds good."  
  
"Do you know the Golden Autumn hotel? In the center of town?" Noah asked, "it has quite a lovely restaurant. How about we meet before it at eight on Monday?"  
  
"Great," Arnold smiled, "I have to go." He began walking away but found himself stopping, "What is your name, by the way?"  
  
"Noah."  
  
"Okay," Arnold hurried away before Noah had time to ask his. 


	4. Chapter Four

And now, for the poll of the day!!!  
  
Don't you hate generalizational comments? No? I don't hate them either, as a matter of fact, I LOVE THEM, all because they are sooo true. Which of the following generalizational comments is the truest of them all?  
  
It is a universal knowledge that while women are in the same public bathroom with you, they are officially your friends...A  
  
Russians need the following to survive: Food, water, reproduction, and Nokia cell phones...B  
  
All men are bastards...C  
  
To punish men, God made them love women. He's just bitter with gay men because they found a loophole around the system (not mine) ...D  
  
Virtually, all fanfiction.net readers and writers are geeks with no life (except me and Writeress, of course) ...E  
  
YOU'RE the geek, bitch!! ...F  
  
Now, just so you don't hate me, these are supposed to make you laugh..GEEKS!!!! lol just kidding, I love you all! Enjoy the story. Well, here goes...  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Dr. Bening, a renowned psychologist, flipped through her notebook, searching for something, anything that could bring her closer to her destination, whatever such was. It's been a long time since she'd had an intelligible conversation with her client, considering that he had canceled his last eight appointments. It was a pleasant surprise for her, or perhaps vice versa, when he appeared at her office unannounced.  
  
"Arnold," she said, crossing her long legs, wiggling her foot, making the gray shoe dance upon it, "I almost don't know what to say. How about this time, you do the talking."  
  
"And what would you like me to say, Doc?"  
  
"Why all of a sudden you show up at my office without making an appointment, why you demand to be let in, that I miss my lunch break?"  
  
"Because I just had to see something beautiful today," Arnold smiled, "and I wanted to ask if you wanted to go out on a date."  
  
Dr. Bening grinned, clicking her pen, "I'm charmed," she said, "but not convinced."  
  
"Not convinced?"  
  
"Nor interested," she remarked, looking down at her notes, "you didn't come just because of that."  
  
"Not interested?" Arnold continued, "then how do you account for the fact that you did miss your lunch break all for the little old me?"  
  
"Not because I want to date you, Arnold, but because I want to understand you," she said, "and I think you came here on this particular day because you want to be understood."  
  
"You always see some sort of thinking behind things, like people don't just partake in certain, random impulses," he smiled, "I like that about you only to a certain extent."  
  
"I hope I have not yet made that extent," she smiled, "because I like you a lot, Arnold, and I want to help both, professionally and personally."  
  
"I'm more interested in personal help right now, Dr. Bening," Arnold replied, "the more personal the better."  
  
"I wouldn't take that from just anyone. Maybe you're one of those people who hide behind the things they say. It's a little cowardly, don't you think?"  
  
"Cowardly?" Arnold questioned, looking down with a sly smile; "do you prefer that I say nothing at all?"  
  
"I prefer that you say something, I prefer that your words include truth and meaning. So far, I haven't gotten a bit out of you, an I think it's wrong of you to expect me to help you if you don't release what you know you want to release."  
  
"I can release myself to a homeless man in the park," Arnold said, "if that's all your job consists of, getting people to release."  
  
"My job consists of getting people to understand what it is that they release, but I need a little help from these people. Arnold, you puzzle me, and I want to solve that puzzle. Maybe that's why I'm here right now instead of out to lunch with associates."  
  
"Stop saying that," he said, almost angrily, "as if you don't flatter all of your clients like that, as if you don't treat us all the same."  
  
"Treat you the same, huh?" she asked cynically, placing her notebook on the table, and gathering her purse, "You want me to treat differently from them? Okay then!" She leveled to her feet and began to walk towards the door.  
  
"Where are you going?" he asked in confusion.  
  
"I'm going to lunch. I've got an appointment in an hour, so I wish you would be gone by the time I return."  
  
Arnold stared at her blankly as she continued out, he had to stop her, "I met somebody today."  
  
She stopped, it worked. Dr. Bening turned and faced him, "A woman?"  
  
"No," he said, "not like that. I met a man. I thought it was a kind of funny story."  
  
She paused her quick movement, looking intently into Arnold's eyes, saying nothing.  
  
"I was in this diner, I don't know why I was there, actually, it was a kind of random thing. But, anyway, I was there, minding my own business when, suddenly, out of nowhere, this guy turns and says something. I don't ever remember what it was," he paused, "but the way he said it made me feel strange. He had this smile on his face, as if he was my friend. I'm not really used to that sort of thing, most people aren't my friends, you see."  
  
Dr. Bening nodded, slowly moving to her chair.  
  
"Yes, well, we talked (just for a minute) and then he smiled again and he said he wanted to see me again. He said he wanted me to come have dinner with him and his girlfriend."  
  
"And what did you say?" Dr. Bening asked.  
  
"What could I have said? I said yes."  
  
"And how did that make you feel?"  
  
"Strange," Arnold sighed, "that's the significance of this story. The man, I'm almost sure I don't know him. It's just that he seemed so familiar. As if I knew him in a past life or something. Do you believe in reincarnation, Dr. Bening?"  
  
"I think what matters is what you believe."  
  
"Of course," Arnold smiled, "never a prose response. What do I believe? I don't even know. I mean, yesterday, my answer would have been a no, but today, I'm not so sure. Where have I seen him before if not in a past life?"  
  
Dr. Bening leaned her head for a moment and then looked up again, "Maybe it's not him as a person, maybe it's him as an essence?"  
  
"An essence?" Arnold questioned.  
  
"Maybe, once in your life you have known someone who was a little bit like that, maybe a lot."  
  
Arnold scratched his head and looked down, "Maybe. But tell me then, Dr. Bening, why don't I remember any of it?"  
  
She clicked her pen again an sighed, uncrossing her legs, "Maybe because you don't want to."  
  
  
  
Lila opened the door, perplexed as to who should be visiting her at this time. Jonathan was at work, and she was not expecting company. For quite a while now the couple lived in solitude, not showing their face anywhere, not sharing the details of their perfect personal life as they had before. Who could it be, then? She hoped it was not Jonathan, home early from work. Then again, it wouldn't be him, would it? He hadn't come home early for the past two weeks, and it was silly to suppose that it was he now.  
  
The moment she opened the door, she shut it almost simultaneously. For there, right outside, stood Gerald, a grave expression on his face.  
  
"Open, Lila," he said through the thick concrete, his words bouncing off of her ears, "open the door, don't be stupid."  
  
"You aren't supposed to be here," she weakly replied, "please leave."  
  
"We need to talk," he said.  
  
"We've talked enough," she said, "please go, don't make me call security."  
  
"You would call security on me?" Gerald said, "after all we've been through?"  
  
"We've been through nothing!" she exclaimed, feeling tears rush into the bottoms of her eyes.  
  
"We've been through everything, please open the door!" he demanded.  
  
She pressed her back against it, as if her own weight supplied the strength of the object; she began sobbing.  
  
"Lila!" he screamed, she stayed silent, "Lila!" he ejaculated again. She did not respond.  
  
In frustration, Gerald began banging his fists against the door, trying to pry it open, all the while screaming her name. She closed her eyes, his cries becoming distant and dull, blurred out of her subconscious, as her mind began to dance.  
  
"Lila, I love you!" he screamed but she remained still, she had made her decision, she had chosen Jonathan and his coldness, and she was going to abide to it. Gerald was not a part of her decision. But he continued screaming, and it tore her up from within.  
  
"Lila! Why can't you just open the door? Why can't you understand? I'm nothing without you! Lila!"  
  
But she did not respond, she stood still, her face stoical, meager tears escaping her frozen eyes. Her hands began to shake.  
  
"I'll stay here all my life if I have to, I won't leave until you come out and talk to me!"  
  
She closed her eyes and reopened them, immediately afterward walking to her phone and dialing a number.  
  
"Hello, front desk security, please," she softly chanted into the phone.  
  
  
  
Helga felt enthralled as she lay in his arms, tucked gently around her body, memorizing the night. The touch of his lips, the feel of his skin pressed tightly against her, his face meddling with the inclination of her neck as he worked his way inside of her. Their bodies felt like a combined equation, molded to absolute perfection. She smiled, looking up at the ceiling that looked gray, now that the fresh rays of the new day began pouring into the room through the creaks of the drawn curtain. Their scents mingled in the atmosphere, and Helga inhaled it like perfume. She had so much, just so very much it almost made her feel scared that it was all a dream. She wanted to pinch herself, to be certain, while simultaneously fearing that it truly was a deep hibernation, for, if it was, she never wished to awake.  
  
Her smile was bright as she traced the fine lines of his slumbering visage, gently pressing her lips against his sleeping eyelashes. Noah's lips curved upwards in sweet ecstasy and Helga felt utter enthrallment. At that moment, watching her loved man asleep, dreaming pleasant dreams, as he always had, she suddenly realized that she was the happiest woman in the world. Quickly, she rushed the window and undid the tapestry, allowing white light to flow through, overpowering her face for a moment. The room lit up in a natural beige tint, and her skin glowed like white porcelain, as if she were an angel. Helga's blue eyes opened wide, as she skipped across the room, landing back on the white sheets of the bed, drawing the light around her like a blanket. Her cheeks became flushed, and she draped Noah's sleeping, pale hand with her own, feeling its warmth radiating from within. She closed her eyes and threw her head in the air, enjoying the savored feeling of goodness the moment produced. At that moment he awoke.  
  
She smiled and he blushed, covering his face for a moment from the impending army of illumination "What's going on?" he asked sweetly, "You weren't drawing on my face with your lipstick again like you did last time I overslept, are you?"  
  
"And ruin my lipstick?" she smiled, "I don't think so."  
  
He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and looking at Helga in the aloof way she so loved, "I don't know what it is this morning, but you look more beautiful than I had ever seen you before in my life."  
  
Helga was not wearing makeup, her hair was disheveled, and she wore but white silk pajamas that she brought with her from England. More to the point, she was never a beautiful woman to begin with, and no man besides Noah had ever remarked on her handsomeness. She certainly did not find herself beautiful. But when he said it, she felt her spirits rise even higher. It was extraordinary.  
  
"If someone told me I was beautiful every morning for the rest of my life," she mused with a smile, "I think I would be a very happy woman."  
  
"Then consider yourself there," he smiled, pressing his lips against hers, their tongues massaging against one another.  
  
"Noah," she smiled, burying her face in his chest, "I love you."  
  
His arms went around her yet again. A few days ago, Noah told her the truth about his feelings but no true response followed. This was the first time she, herself, told him the three little words. 


	5. Chapter Five

I'm sorry for the LONG wait, my life is just soooo interesting. There's some hot ass guys in this world. HOT ASS GUYS!!!  
  
Well, I made this chapter super interesting, SUPER HOT!  
  
So, for the poll.  
  
Who's the hottest guy in the world?  
  
Josh Hartnett, he's so dreamy  
  
George Clooney, I always had a thing for older men  
  
Brad Pitt, there's something about men that don't like to take showers  
  
Eminem, I'm sorry mama, but I'm in a good relationship with trailer trash  
  
Arnold, because----just because  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 5  
  
  
  
"The firm called," Noah said, coming out of the bathroom dressed in a towel.  
  
Helga looked up at his masculine body and admired it.  
  
"They said I would have to work from here tomorrow," he continued, "looks like a whole day on the phone without even an occasional break. I'll have to check out of our plans for tomorrow."  
  
"That's too bad, I was thinking we could go to the museum in the morning, and then to the theater at night."  
  
"I'll be busy all day, I'm sorry," he said, "but I hope you could find yourself occupied."  
  
"I'll try," she smiled, "But I can't say it's going to be easy."  
  
She placed diamond earrings through the holes of her flesh, and gazed at herself in the mirror, brushing her hair. It was about the length of her ears, somewhat quirky and upbeat, while simultaneously sophisticated. She was a real woman now, a real woman. No longer a girl, Helga had to look forward to her thirtieth birthday, she would be fully grown soon, and never again disregarded for her youth. The valley of the twenties truly was a reprieve to the audacity of Mother thirty.  
  
She studied herself in the mirror, a black dress, oblique against her white skin, a thin layer of lipstick, heavily lined blue eyes, high cheekbones. She looked truly professional, truly classic, but not beautiful. Noah, of course, saw someone else.  
  
In his eyes, Helga was extraordinary, a glorious culmination of everything a real woman needed to be well rounded. The way her thin, feeble body moved made his blood rush, her thin, flailing, bare arms, her beautiful long legs. She was taller than he was, her bosom slightly curving up, with large nipples penetrating through eternally. From there, she moved down to a flat stomach, and farther to a slightly rounded, though not perfectly shaped bottom. Of course, he legs made up for the rest. He loved them, wrapped around his frame, like two glamorous reminders of what was truly beautiful in life.  
  
Noah placed his hand around her waist and smelled the perfume on her neck, as the couple gazed deeply into the mirror. Helga breathed in deeply, feeling aroused by his own scent, and their senses mingled against one another. The palely illuminated atmosphere of the room served as a natural aphrodisiac, and the quiet jazzy music from the radio gently skylarked throughout, making the couple even more aware of the faculties their lover possessed.  
  
"You look beautiful tonight," Noah whispered, kissing Helga's porcelain skin, his hot breath tingled against the surface of her neck, her nipples hardened, and the muscles in her upper thighs began to flex. She inhaled deeply and loudly exhaled, closing her eyes, feeling goosebumps rush over her body. His grip tightened around her waist, digging through the thin, silky fabric of her dress. Her lips let out a quiet moan and she smiled, looking at Noah in the mirror. He did too, and they shared a quiet, though momentary, peace.  
  
"Thank you," she at last responded, "you look beautiful too."  
  
His eyes flickered in the darkness, and he had to himself a look of someone who was not Noah, someone else. But she didn't know whom. And, quite frankly, she didn't care.  
  
And then they made love.  
  
  
  
  
  
Roxette was a supermodel. She was of a foreign descent with long, dark hair, and a tall, thin, yet glorious body. She was dressed in a red little "number," and looked very well plastered to Arnold's arm. She had long bothered that he took her out because, to her, their relationship consisted of something more than fucking on the weekends. As a matter of fact, she even bought him cologne on their "one month anniversary," which, of course, he had completely forgotten. But tonight she was with him, not because he wanted to make it up to her, but because he figured having a Tahitian beauty by his side would impress the interesting man whom he had met the day before.  
  
"This seems pleasant," Roxy said as they stood outside of the hotel restaurant, holding hands, without realizing that Arnold was ignoring her, "we should do this more often."  
  
He did not reply.  
  
She searched him with her dark eyes, innocent and fluttered with briskly eyelashes, "shouldn't we?"  
  
"Oh yes of course," he vaguely replied.  
  
She sighed sadly, "yes."  
  
He looked over at her pouted face, bringing her closer to him, and slipping his hand dangerously close to the inclination between her legs. She giggled quietly and her visage brightened. Arnold suddenly felt impatient, he no longer cared where Noah was, as a matter of fact, he no longer wanted Noah to be there at all. He was ready to leave, to take the little fox next to him, throw her on the bed and have his way with her in the most rough way imaginable when suddenly, hell froze over and he met familiar blue eyes.  
  
She looked healthy and balanced, no longer pale, no longer diluted. He noticed her first, Helga, that same woman whom he had hated all these months, the same woman who had said good-bye to him coldly and relentlessly. She was right there, right there! Inside of the hotel lobby, heading towards him. She saw him too, and she looked faint, and he knew that she had felt the same way that he had. It took him a while to gather, however, that she had someone by her side, and that someone was the very Noah he had just been dying to desert.  
  
England, yes, England. She said she was going there, didn't she? And now she had come back, with the only person Arnold had ever known to be of Britain's descent. Life suddenly felt like a crude passel of overrated cliches. And he wanted her again, he wanted her with a burning, beastly passion. Even as she walked his way, he was ready to steal her away from this world, and his fists stiffened. He remembered who walked by her side. But he didn't care. He wanted her, and he was going to have her, even if it cost him (and her) everything. He didn't care one bit.  
  
"I see someone I know," Noah said with a smile, not noticing that Helga had begun to shake.  
  
"That's him?' said she, "that's the man that you said we must dine with?"  
  
"That's right," Noah replied, "he looks like a kind chap, doesn't he? And the girl he's with, congratulations."  
  
Helga wanted to fall, but she had to stand erect. She promised herself that she would never see him again. She had also promised herself that she would hate him forever and ever only a year ago. But she broke that promise soon enough.  
  
"Are you alright darling?" Noah said, noticing but miscomprehending her distress. She was suddenly annoyed. She suddenly wished she wasn't here, she suddenly wished she wasn't with him.  
  
"I'm fine," she said, breathing heavily. He accepted it at that.  
  
"Hello," Arnold said, as the couple approached. He did not take his eyes off of Helga.  
  
"I am glad you could make it," Noah replied, "let me introduce you to Helga."  
  
"Nice to meet you," Arnold extended his hand.  
  
She reluctantly met it, the warmth of their fleshes made both sides ache within.  
  
Roxette nudged Arnold. He barely noticed it. She nudged him harder, and the two hands separated.  
  
"Who is this lovely lady?" Noah asked.  
  
"What?" Arnold asked.  
  
"This lady standing next to you."  
  
Arnold had to look around before remembering that, indeed, there was a lady there.  
  
"This is Roxette."  
  
"Well, the two of you make a lovely couple," Noah smiled, "Don't they, darling?" he directed at Helga.  
  
"Lovely," she said, holding back the expression on her face that began to form.  
  
The night raged on.  
  
  
  
Noah kept talking, with Roxette occasionally filling in the blanks. Arnold and Helga sat opposite of one another, not daring to look up for fear of meeting exasperated eyes. It was quiet and simple in their own world, although all around chaos prevailed. It was as if a glass bubble formed around them.  
  
Fast jazz began to play.  
  
"I want to dance," Noah and Roxette said simultaneously. They looked at their partners.  
  
"No," Arnold and Helga replied.  
  
"Then dance with me, Roxette," Noah pleaded, "if it's all right with your dashing protégé, that is."  
  
"Oh, is it, Arnold, is it?" she pleaded like a little girl.  
  
He looked across the table at Helga, who sat timid in her little corner, "If it's alright with your own date."  
  
"Is it alright with you, darling?" Noah asked.  
  
She didn't want him to leave her alone with Arnold, then again, it wasn't like she was going to say no.  
  
The two scurried away leaving the strenuous atmosphere behind. Arnold began fidgeting with the napkin while Helga stared calmly with a fixated glance into her lap. The music played around them, but they did not notice it, they didn't notice anything but each other, no matter how hard they tried not to.  
  
"So, you haven't been wasting any time," Arnold at last broke the silence. She looked up, and for the first time, their gazes collided.  
  
"Neither have you," Helga quietly replied.  
  
"How long have the two of you been together?"  
  
"Eight months," she replied.  
  
Arnold groaned, "And you haven't once reconsidered it?"  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" she almost screamed, but limited her tone to a red indignation.  
  
"I don't know, it must get kind of hard fucking a dickless guy."  
  
She looked at him with rage, "What can I say? I have a history of those."  
  
"Really? How many have you had in your life? One? Two? I'm talking about the guys in general, not just the minimally endowed ones."  
  
She wanted to throw a drink at him, but she only exacted a cold glance. Somehow, she could not find her tongue. She had nothing to say, she felt humiliated and lost, she felt like crying, she felt like---something. But she quickly tried to banish it from her mind.  
  
Thankfully, the dirty thoughts were interrupted by the return of Noah and Roxette.  
  
"Have you had fun?" Arnold asked.  
  
"Lots of fun," Roxette exclaimed.  
  
"We did too," Arnold smiled, an insincere smile, but no one noticed its true nature except for Helga.  
  
"Really?" Noah asked, "Have you found something to talk about?"  
  
"Yes we have!" Arnold assured him, "we had a very passionate discourse, a very---provocative one."  
  
"Really?" Noah continued.  
  
"Yes," Arnold smiled again, "as a matter of fact we would love to continue it tomorrow, at lunch, perhaps?"  
  
"I'm busy tomorrow," Helga said.  
  
"No you are not!" Noah smiled.  
  
"Yes I am."  
  
"Come on Helga, did you forget? I'm working all day tomorrow, and you said yourself you had nothing to do."  
  
"I never said that!" she exclaimed, "I have plenty to do tomorrow."  
  
"Whatever you say, then," Noah gave up, feeling confused.  
  
"Well," Arnold remarked, "In that case, let's continue our conversation right now, shall we?"  
  
"Oh, I'd love to hear it!" Roxette cooed.  
  
"Yes, do tell," Noah supported him.  
  
"Me and Helga, we go way back."  
  
Her eyes widened, what was he doing?  
  
"Oh really?" Noah smiled, "what do you mean?"  
  
"You know how she used to live here and all, well, I've known her since we were children."  
  
"Oh why didn't you tell us right away?" Noah laughed. Helga suddenly felt hostility towards both men at the table, one for being malicious, and another for being so damn naïve.  
  
"Well, we haven't seen one another for a while now," Arnold smiled, "For one whole year. But let me tell you something interesting that happened to us a year ago. You see, Helga was involved in some legal problems, and I was one of the main people against her. Who would have though that we would fall in---"  
  
"Into a friendship," she quickly supplied the words for him.  
  
"Yes," he said, "into a friendship, a very strong and intimate friendship."  
  
His words tore her apart.  
  
"I'm not feeling so well," Helga got up from her seat, "Noah, can we please go?"  
  
He looked at her with alarm, "But why? The night is still so young."  
  
"Yes, it is young indeed," Arnold smiled with malice, "And I haven't finished our story yet."  
  
"We'll finish it tomorrow, at lunch," she forced the phrase out of herself with great difficulty.  
  
"It's all right with me," Arnold smiled, "but how about we make it breakfast? Ten o'clock. Do you remember that little restaurant, right near where I live? You must remember where I live."  
  
"I think I do, the one that serves expensive champagne."  
  
"Yes," Arnold smiled, "because there's nothing better than Champagne in the morning."  
  
"Yes," she said weakly, her complexion turning pale, "Good night."  
  
Noah bid his farewells and escorted his lady out of the restaurant. On their way out, Helga turned her head. Arnold's gaze did not leave her frame until it disappeared from sight.  
  
  
  
  
  
She was late, as a matter of fact, she didn't want to be there at all. He was already at a table, and he waited for her patiently. She slowly made her way through the room and plopped down into a chair.  
  
"I'm glad you could make it," he said with fake politeness.  
  
She looked at him with hate, "I'm not."  
  
"Too bad," he smiled, "if you don't mind, I took the liberty of ordering for you."  
  
"Will you be taking the liberty of paying too?"  
  
"I don't know," he continued, "Are we on a date?"  
  
Helga did not reply, she stared out the window.  
  
"Will this be a one-sided conversation then?"  
  
Another moment of silence, and then she spoke, "Why am I here?"  
  
"What do you mean?" he asked.  
  
"It was all dead a year ago, you don't need to bring it up anymore. I'm living my own life and you're living yours, I don't see why---" she paused.  
  
"Why what?" he smiled smugly.  
  
"Why you have to hurt me again?"  
  
There was silence for a moment, "I hurt you?" he said with a laugh.  
  
"You sadistic bastard," she exclaimed, gathering her things.  
  
"Wow, Helga you really hate me."  
  
She fixated on him, "yes, I do hate you. Haven't you noticed?"  
  
"Did it ever occur to you that's why you're here? We ended on a bad note, I wanted to make it all good again."  
  
"You fucking liar," she said, her face in disgust. But she wasn't moving anymore. Somethng about his face made her stop. Something about his face, and something about her heart. Something that she felt, that she still fucking felt!  
  
"You're right," he smiled, "I might as well admit it. Flattery never works well with unsentimental women like you."  
  
She suddenly began to remember.  
  
She remembered a small, football headed boy with a lopsided grin.  
  
She remembered running through a flowery field in her imagination, with his hand in hers.  
  
She remembered lying on her bed with a little notebook of poetry, scribbling nuances of her passionate love.  
  
She remembered his closed eyes, when she kissed him for the first time during that play.  
  
She remembered the way he looked on that Valentine's night, when he said that he had liked her---the hidden her---and the way that she sighed.  
  
And then she remmebered how he said that he loved her, how he asked her to marry him, not so long ago, not anymore. What could really have changed about a man in so many years? What did it matter? Somewhere, deep inside, the Arnold she once loved might still have been alive, and that fixated her in one place. She suddenly forgot about reality, she forgot about Noah, she forgot about everything. Only he was in existence. This cruel, cold, melancholy men who still held a special, hidden place inside of her too- often-glued-together heart.  
  
"So tell me the truth then," said she, nervously, quietly, with great difficulty.  
  
"I want to fuck you, Helga," he replied. And she realized that she wanted to fuck him too.  
  
Helga stared blankly at Arnold, not saying a word.  
  
He took it as a cue.  
  
"Check!" He exclaimed.  
  
  
  
The door slammed behind them, and Helga was thrown on the bed, as Arnold jumped on top. Violently, madly he rippied off her clothing, licking, tugging, divulging her skin like a mad beast. And soon, he was nude as well, his muscular body against hers in a warm and steamy sensation. They looked at one another with lewd, dirty smiles, and he let himself enter her.  
  
She threw her head back, opening her mouth wide, and closing her eyes. It never felt like this with Noah. She had forgotten what it meant to make love to an experienced lover. No, not to make love. Not even to have sex. To fuck, that's right, to fuck.  
  
He drove it in and out, she held on relentlessly to the sheets. He pushed her neck against the pillow, she groaned in pleasure. Soon, Helga's nails dug into the muscular flesh on his back, as his hands fondled her forehead, before moving down to her lips and sliding a finger inside. She sucked on it, feelign him roaming within, closing tightly her eyes, feeling like a tigress tormented by love. He dug his fingers into her hair, sweat, heat, moaning, pain, pleasure, so dirty, so wrong, so hard---so good!!  
  
She screamed, and he laughed, "oh you like that?" She did. She opened her mouth, he fed roughly on it. Their lips mingled, their tongues fondled against one another, soft warm feeling of his saliva, the smooth odor of her skin. It all combined to form the epithomy of sensuality. Her face, her cold eyes, her movements. His own thrusting vibrations.  
  
Her legs were spread wide apart, they were frantically digging into the air, the sensation of his muscular thighs withing hers, moving, dancing, thrusting, exploding!! And then she orgazmed. He climaxed immediately afterward. Two explosions that shook the world. And then they fell apart to opposite sides of the bed, breathing heavily, gathering themselves.  
  
Before long, he was on top of her again, kissing her lips, pressing his chest against her soft, bare breasts, digging into her hard nipples, "does he make you feel like this?" he whispered into her ear. It sent a rush down her body, she wanted him to make love to her again.  
  
"No," she whispered, "only you can."  
  
"That's the right answer," he smiled, she closed her eyes, his hands went over her cheeks. She felt flustered, she felt hot, and sore, humiliated, and yet completely satisfied.  
  
"Do that again," she said, feeling her velvety delta becoming moist yet again at the thought of his closeness.  
  
"My little whore," he smiled and honored her request three more times on that very same day.  
  
  
  
It was ten o'clock on the hotel clock. Noah sat in his pajamas under the sheets of the bed, staring into the laptop, working some figures. The room was dimly lit, and he yawned, knowing that he would need to go to sleep soon. He wondered where Helga was for a moment, but soon concluded that the play was probably a late one. He didn't worry at all as he extinguished the light and closed his eyes, quickly falling into slumber. 


	6. Chapter Six

Me personally, I think all of those guys are hot. On my good days I have a thing for Josh. On my not so good days I want an older man like George. On my "have sex with me in your factory without even taking your clothes off in your new movie" days, it's eminem. But lately, after watching Spy Game, I began to notice the intense hotness of Brad Pitt. I mean, I've become sooooo(o lovesick that I'm freaking looking up the peace corps, because the bitch in Spy Game met Brad while she was helping out sick children in some country. Maybe I, too, will meet a sexxilicious spy pretending to be a photographer and using me to get to some doctor whom he needs to kill some terrorist, falling madly in love with me in the progress, and then risking his life to rescue me from a Chinese Prison. That would be the best gift any girl could get from volunteering and helping people out.  
  
Thanks to all of my reviewers. I just have one question though---Joey--- Richard? lol  
  
Now, for the poll  
  
Whos a HOOOEEE????  
  
Jennifer Lopez, she's ASS hoe ASS you can get...A  
  
Jennifer Anniston, crazy hoe married MY husband...B  
  
Britney Spears, makes my eyes and my ears hurt at the same time...C  
  
Christina Aguilera, Meeeeeeeriiiiiieeee CHRIIIIIIIISmmmmaaaSS toooooo YOOOU!!!!!! *Dirty* ...D  
  
Shakira, the girl is beautiful but she sings like me (which isn't a good thing)...E  
  
Beyonce Knowles, "Nasty put some clothes on" you're a stuck up bitch la la la...F  
  
Tatu, they're a European band consisting of two lesbians, who love to make out in public, sing about their vibrator, and milk the whole "Guys like lesbians" ideal for all its worth while still claiming to be feminists...G  
  
Well, back to the story.  
  
  
  
Chapter 6  
  
"I love the way you smell," Noah caressed Helga's skin as they lay together on the bed. Not so very long ago, Arnold had done the same, only he commented on how he abhorred her perfume. It was refreshing with Arnold. He didn't make her feel perfect, he noticed all of her little flaws. And somehow, when he passionately traced the outlines of her breasts with his lips, and when his hands gripped at her body, she felt a sort of acceptance. He accepted her for what she was, he enjoyed her for what she was. He did not try to make her perfect. With him, Helga felt like she could truly be herself.  
  
And then she had to go back to Noah. Noah who made her feel like a queen, who worshipped her. As pleasing as it sometimes was, she felt it was too much responsibility. Ruling a country she did at work. In the privacy of her own home, she needed honesty, not false flattery. She needed relaxation, she needed peace. With Noah, all she could do was constantly measure up to his expectations. Truly, nothing in the world could hurt her more than disappointing him. And so she lived under eternal pressure, and at this point, when for a moment she experienced something apart from it, she felt annoyed. Helga was going to spend the rest of her life with this man, but her heart longed for a little adventure. She would have to go back to England eventually, live on. Go back to her job, in which her heart no longer lay, fit into the proper social circles within which Noah resided. She would have to accept that her life would not progress any farther beyond this point and still be content with it. That would happen someday, but for now she was on vacation. She was supposed to leave for England the following week, but an unknown force restrained her. She couldn't bring herself to sacrifice everything, that night of burning passion, detached sensation, and absolutely no obligation. She felt that that night was like smoking, she knew it was bad for her, and that someday she would have to quit. But only a true smoker knows, that when you first light up a cigarette and press it to your lips, when you first inhale it, and feel the nicotine circulate through your veins, when you feel the burning shame of regret and simultaneous sensationalism, no matter how wrong it is, you cannot deny that those little moments make you the happiest woman alive. Screw consequences, screw righteousness. Leave all inhibitions at the door. This is something truly extravagant, an addiction decadent in its malice. No matter how hard you try, you can never truly release it. That is human nature, for once you are attached to something, you are unable to let go. And you can give up everything, your happiness, your future, your life, just for one of those little moments. You can kill for a little moment of bliss.  
  
"You're so beautiful, Helga," he whispered into her ear, and she closed her eyes, feinting sleep.  
  
  
  
The phone rang. Arnold lazily reached for it, trying to pry the object through the dark. It was one in the morning, and the moon shone compulsively through the window illuminating his path. He pressed the receiver to his ear and mumbled something angrily.  
  
"Arnold?" but never in the world could he be angry at that angelic voice. It was like a melody to his ear, and he hated himself for the pain and pleasure that it cost him. How beautiful indeed that voice sounded, as his name luxuriously slid down the concord of her sweet tongue.  
  
"Lila," he said attentively, "what's the matter?"  
  
"I need someone to talk to, might as well be you."  
  
"Talk, Lila," he said.  
  
"No," she protested, "not like that."  
  
"I'll be at your house in ten minutes," he said quickly jumping out of the bed.  
  
"No," she said, "please, don't. I'll meet you in a bar at the corner of where I live."  
  
"Is he there? Is Jonathan there?"  
  
"No," Lila said, "Arnold, please, come as soon as you can."  
  
He rushed through his procedure of getting dressed. There was something desperate about her voice and he longed to comprehend what that desperation was.  
  
  
  
"Look at those stars," Lila said, staring up at the sky, "sometimes, I look up there and feel like the world is silently cradling me. Do you ever feel that way, Arnold?"  
  
They were sitting on the roof of her townhouse, looking up at the stars, feeling the gentle breeze of upcoming autumn play with their faces.  
  
He stared solemnly at her, not taking his infatuated eyes from her pretty face, how easily forgotten everything was when he was next to the beautiful enchantress, "Sometimes," said he.  
  
She nodded and grinned, flashing her white teeth; "I could sit here for hours, looking up at the sky. Sometimes, I wish I was up there."  
  
"Why would you wish for something like that?"  
  
"Because life seems completely predictable," she shrugged, "and I sometimes wonder what would happen if I wasn't a part of it. If I could just watch silently over it from above, without getting involved, watch life without having to live. I want to be a bird," she smiled and placed her head on his shoulder  
  
He inhaled deeply and finally accepted the element upon him as being the most natural way in which he'd felt for a long while.  
  
"Like in that song," she continued, starting to sing quietly, "Someday I'll fly away, leave all this to yesterday."  
  
In the hushed grim of the night her thin voice rang like a ray of sunshine, illuminating the path of passers by.  
  
"Why live life from dream to dream," she continued, stopping for a moment to raise her head from Arnold's shoulder and with a stare of pain look up at the sky as if it was silently rejecting her advances, "and dread the day, when dreaming ends."  
  
And then there was silence again, and from the soft sounds of her strained breath, Arnold distinguished that she was crying. He placed his hand upon hers, as they rested against the pavement, and as the night slowly kissed them with its fiery presence.  
  
"The dreaming never ends," he said a soft word of assurance, moving closer to her on the pavement. She abruptly freed her hand and ran it through her red hair.  
  
"Yes it does," she said slowly, "it ended for me long ago, the day I made my own future, and said goodbye to the only man that ever loved me."  
  
Arnold looked at her, in disbelief at what she had just said. So many years he'd dreamed that she would admit his feelings were real and appreciate them for what they were, a true effigy of his affection. So many years he lived for this woman, and it felt as if, now, for the first time, those years were worthwhile. It was like working menial labor in the hot afternoon, and then, after you had somehow lived through it, being able to have a drink of water and say to yourself, it was all worthwhile.  
  
"Gerald," she said.  
  
It was like a knife had stabbed him, it was too painful, too heartbreaking. He felt that had he not restrained himself with all of his power, he could easily leap off the roof of the building without any hesitation. All this while, all these years, he stood by silently, waiting. But now or never, that was his resolution. He simply couldn't handle any more rejection. He simply couldn't keep his lips sealed about it any longer.  
  
"Gerald?" he began slowly, giving her the look of a thousand deaths, "Gerald---" he mused softly.  
  
"Yes," she said, looking at his reaction, "yes, Gerald loves me."  
  
"The only man who ever loved you?"  
  
"Yes," she said, "the only one."  
  
"And then---" he stuttered, "I guess you've never taken in consideration someone else?"  
  
"What do you mean?" she said with a lighthearted smile.  
  
"You never considered---" he paused, looking at his feet and then up at her, "me."  
  
Her beautiful face immediately filled with worry and she sprang to her feet staring up with concern, "Arnold, don't do this."  
  
"Don't do this?" he asked in disbelief, "why not, Lila? Why shouldn't I do this?"  
  
"Because---" she whispered, "It's better that way for us."  
  
"No!" he exclaimed, loudly, profoundly, causing her to step back with a slight nervousness, "It's better for you that way---so much----easier."  
  
She shook her head, "No Arnold, please don't ruin things---"  
  
"Ruin things? How can I ruin anything if there isn't anything to ruin?"  
  
She opened her eyes widely and her lips began to shake, "Arnold," she said softly, "we're friends---"  
  
"We're not friends, we can't be friends if I'm desperately in love with you!"  
  
"No!" she exclaimed, "You're not in love with me, you can't be in love me because you don't know what you're getting yourself into!"  
  
"It's easy for you to say because you don't have to live with it---live with knowing that you need, you passionately desire above all things on earth the one and only thing you cannot have."  
  
"Oh," she nodded cynically, "that's what I am to you, isn't it? A thing. What if you did get me, what then? It would stop hurting and then what would you feel for me? I know you men, I know very well. You only want what you cannot have."  
  
"All I know is that I want you, today, tomorrow, forever!"  
  
"Never! You don't want me, not the way I want you to want me, not the way I want any man to want me."  
  
His face filled with emotion, "Lila, you mean everything to me, I can't live without you, I'm nothing without you."  
  
He began to approach her, putting his hands around her waist, trying desperately to press his lips to hers as she struggled desperately within his grip. Lila violently convulsed her head, throwing it back and forth, and back and forth. He tried to reach her but he couldn't, yet his power did not let her go.  
  
"No!" she screamed loudly, struggling in his grip.  
  
"You're so beautiful," he shuddered, feeling his sexual drive reach a peak, "Just kiss me once, Lila," he sobbed, "Just once, let me feel your skin against me," his voice broke through his tears of desperation. "Just once let me hold you and then I promise that I'll be able to live on" he panted, feeling his hardness grow and press against her leg; "and be content with what we have and never ruin it---" he continued, whispering into her porcelain neck. "I promise never to speak to you again if you want---" He tightened himself around her, driving his fingers under her skirt, and feeling the impulsive vibrations of her thighs as she struggled against him, "I promise if you just let me hold you just one single time---" and then he breathed in harder, and he inhaled the smell of her, and he wanted more, he needed more, he needed it with a violent, intense passion.  
  
"No, Arnold," she violently shook her head, folding her eyes and shivering from the crisp coolness of the night, "no."  
  
"Lila-"  
  
"NO!" she screamed pulling away, snapping him back to reality, and he looked at her, making her want to cry from the pain that she saw on his face.  
  
"Lila---" he whispered.  
  
"No," she repeated, softer now, "you think you're different, you think you really love me but you don't."  
  
"But I do," he insisted.  
  
"No," she shook her head frantically, "you don't. You're just like Jonathan. You don't love me. You love the image of me, the happy little girl that makes home life easy and can make all of your wishes come true. Yes, I think you really do love her. But that's not me. I hate to break it to you, Arnold, but you're in love with a woman that doesn't exist."  
  
"But you do exist, you're standing here, in front of me right now!" he screamed, "I can see you, I can smell you, I can feel you."  
  
"Maybe you can smell me and feel me," she uttered, "but you can't see me. You're blinded, Arnold, and of all the greatest things I could ever wish for you, is that you find yourself a woman that cures your eyesight. I woman who is more than a perfect package for you. A woman who has flaws that you can see, but are willing to over look because you love her, truly love her."  
  
"I'm never going to love any woman except you, Lila," he sobbed.  
  
She sighed, stood quietly and whispered, "then I'm sorry," before turning her back and walking away.  
  
Arnold found himself bathed in the awakening twilight. As the sunlight awakened, so did he, as the reality of the situation sank in to him. She had gone, Lila had permanently walked out of his life. As she walked back inside, she didn't turn around once, as he extended his hand for her to return. She never loved him and she never would, and somehow, this thought was more heartbreaking than he could ever imagine. It was all over, all of a sudden, it all ended just like that. There was nothing left for him in life anymore, and he could not do anything else anymore except weep with hot tears as the bright sunrise overpowered his black silhouette. 


	7. Chapter Seven

Okay, let's see, poll question of the week  
  
What will you be doing on New Years?  
  
Drinking with friends......A  
  
Drinking with Family......B  
  
Drinking with Significant Other.......C  
  
Drinking with yourself.......D  
  
Not Drinking (freak).......E  
  
  
  
Chapter Seven  
  
Helga walked across the street, dressed in black, her thin frail arms gently holding her pocketbook. Upon her eyes were dark, large sunglasses, and if you didn't know her, you could easily think that she was a woman in hiding from some sort of force.  
  
-----The whole town is wet under the rain-----  
  
She closed her eyes, as the wet consistency of the air on this gray afternoon gently caressed her skin.  
  
-----Tonight, and during the cold day-----  
  
Thoughts rang through her head, reoccurring ideas, strange fancies. What was going on in her life? Why was she there, what was the point of all the mistakes she had made? Deep in the dampness of tomorrow, her future must have been, but it seemed farther now from her than ever. No matter how hard she tried to reach for it, she never could.  
  
-----We're no longer together-----  
  
Arnold should have been out of her life, she promised herself on that rather similar rainy day that never would she see him again. But there she was again, she reappeared like some sort of sad memory, and their lives were interlocked again.  
  
-----Too bad-----  
  
He'd hurt her once, but perhaps that was because she was naïve, perhaps it was because she allowed him to hurt her, because she wanted him to. Because she was the only one who really knew the true man hidden underneath the clever agenda, perhaps it was because he made her smile, and cry. And laugh, and weep. Perhaps because no one had ever caused such conflicted emotions within her. She felt so much and yet so little, such dependence, and yet such hate.  
  
-----And it doesn't matter whose fault it was-----  
  
He was somewhere right now; he would always be somewhere to her. She could never shake loose of him, she could never forget that, as long as he was alive, as long as he was breathing somewhere, it was the same as if he sat at the precise moment in her bedroom, in her bed, alongside her and Noah, making love.  
  
-----I walk the streets alone-----  
  
Noah, she could not forget Noah. That sweet boy who made her dreams come true, with whom she felt beautiful, and frail, and womanly. A man who had the ability to enthrall her and bore her simultaneously, please her and annoy her at the same time. He was too good for her, but he didn't know that, and she did. She wanted to tell him, she tried to tell him, but there was more sound, more loud thunder from the words she was afraid to utter than those that had the boldness to escape the barrier of her lips.  
  
-----Our unsaid words form a wall-----  
  
The silence destroyed them, a constant fear, a life of polite disillusionment. She didn't know Noah, Noah didn't know her. What had become of their relationship? Something that seemed so right in the beginning dwindled down to a small knot of confusion that even the most clever and able of all could not untie. She was trapped in the middle of that knot, and life could not approach her from the outside. And Noah was long gone, trapped in some other knot she knew nothing about.  
  
-----Alone-----  
  
Left in what they had were only mindless conversations, and constant need to pretend. Helga hated pretending. At this rate, she would need to pretend eternally, until---  
  
-----Until there's nothing left-----  
  
Until life became a dream, a blur, a disguised element of pain. Until she no longer wanted to live, until death came to gather her rich entrails to itself.  
  
-----The world becomes a black and white movie-----  
  
Oh how gray the streets looked as she paced quickly through them on her long, thin legs, in her dark pumps. Noah was somewhere too, she had left him alone, to pursue some sort of excitement in her hometown. Of course, she was headed towards the home of her lover, but Noah could never imagine the woman he loved to be imperfect, to be less than holy, and completely spotless in the big picture.  
  
-----I know that you're still waiting for me-----  
  
He didn't want her to leave him. He wanted her to spend the day with him, to love him, to hold him. He was dependent on her, he needed her, constantly. Without her he was nothing. It was foolish of him to base his life on her. But there he was, doing it. And she almost hated him for it.  
  
-----But love is flying away -----  
  
The more she looked on him, the more she wondered what she saw in the first place. He was, of course, very handsome, and his heart was kind. He knew how to treat a woman, how to please a woman. But Helga was not a normal woman. She needed the opposite of what others required, she needed blunt honesty, and drama, and tears, and madness, and passion, and hate. She wanted someone to love her, but never let her know that they did. She wanted someone to make her feel weak, while, in the midst of passion, secretly holding her dearer than anything on earth. She wanted someone to please himself, while simultaneously pleasing her. Noah was none of these things.  
  
-----You cannot return it-----  
  
But once in her life, there has been something, something dark and passionate, dangerous and pleasurable. Something that made her feel a heaviness in the pit of her stomach, something that made her feel like a woman. And her loss of that something tore her up from within. Soon, tears began to appear across her face.  
  
-----I'm not crying it's only the rain-----  
  
  
  
And there it was, that hopeful complex, his apartment building in plain sight. She hurried toward it, her black shoes clinking against the wet sidewalk, a gentle beat to the music of the rain. Her hands became impatient, her facial expression turned to lust, and her arms felt like they just didn't belong to her body. She forgot about Noah, she forgot about common sense, she forgot about life altogether. She did not care if she died today, she did not care if she lived today, all she cared about is two bodies touching, bidding reality...  
  
-----Good Bye-----  
  
...Goodbye.  
  
-----La La Fa-----  
  
And it's all the same record from here, a broken record, a beautiful broken record, broken vows, broken integrity's, pointless hoping, lost dignity. But did she care? Not at all.  
  
-----These Notes-----  
  
He opened the door and they did not need words. Immediately, she leapt into his arms, their lips roughly stroking against one another, wet, sticky, pointless, hard, hot---  
  
-----Lonely-----  
  
They were not people anymore. They were beasts.  
  
-----You and me-----  
  
She tore off his shirt, revealing his muscular chest, as it pressed roughly against her own, as he buried his hands underneath her skirt, as she wrapped her legs around him. He fondled her flesh, smiling evilly, hearing her moan.  
  
-----Cannot make it on time-----  
  
A sudden rush, as she flew to her feet, as he chased her, as he stopped her at the door. She whispered something about it all being wrong, about it never being able to work out, about how they were destroying everything, how they simply could not go on. And then he told her to shut her mouth, to put herself to use, to not cry, to just not fucking cry. She obeyed immediately, as he began to unbutton the front of her dress, as his mouth fed on the porcelain smoothness, as she leaned her head against the door, as he traced his lips up the canal of her neck, and toward her mouth. And then it was all right again, so wrong that it was right.  
  
-----La La Fa-----  
  
They undressed one another quickly, he traced his path down her cleavage line, around her ribs, roughly fondling with his tongue her belly button. She moved her legs convulsively, feeling his hot breathing against her skin. It tickled her and she laughed, long sobs, she smiled and cried, and closed her eyes, and felt that the inevitable would come someday, but did not fear it. She felt shame and indignation, humiliation, fear, danger, but it all mixed into an orgasmic formula that aroused her more than it threatened her.  
  
-----How sad-----  
  
And then he was on top of her again. She quivered under his weight. They lay on the floor, the cold parquet sheltered her nude body. His muscular chest, his strong arms, all holding her motionless under his grip, the muscles on his thighs pressing into her. They smiled at one another, an intense, understanding smile, and then, without warning, he pushed himself inside of her, as she threw her head back, biting her lips, feeding on his mouth. He deeper inside of her than Noah ever could go, than any man could go. He went quickly, swiftly, carelessly. Nonetheless, he found her spot, he knew how to work it. She spread apart her legs wider, she banged her head on the hardwood floor. Soon, her own body began to follow the rhythm, roughly elevating itself and then drawing down onto the wood. Up and down they went, quickly, swiftly, all the while experiencing all the ecstasies of love. The pain, the pleasure, the dark, sensational feeling of being dirty. The enjoyment of the sin, the glorious culmination. Sweat, heat, dark, light, pain, pleasure, moans, screams, hands, hair, lips, kissing, abandon, regret, love, hate, tears, laughter, loss, gain, farewell, hello, reality, fantasy, explosion---climax!  
  
-----La La Fa-----  
  
And then it was over, and the reality of what she had just done began to sink in. Helga remembered the sweet smile of Noah, his careful hands, his gentle caresses. She remembered how bright the sun seemed to shine when he was by her side, the safety that she had experienced, lying in his arms on a midsummer night, listening to his sweet voice, to his heart beating. Arnold could never give her that security, that romance, that happiness. He could satisfy her lust, but never could her provide her with love.  
  
-----As a goodbye-----  
  
She dressed quickly, trying not to look at him, afraid to meet his eyes. But she felt him on top of her. She regretted everything that she had done. Once she loved a boy. A boy with cornflower hair, her beloved, and her despair. That boy had a kind and gentle heart, he could make her heart awaken with one single smile, with one touch, with one word. That boy she adored because he was nothing like her. He cared for other people, it did not matter to him who you were or what you had done. To him, all that mattered was that you were human, he respected you just for being that. And that boy would sacrifice everything to stand up for what he believed. He thought everything was possible, he believed into everything. She loved him for that, that boy with cornflower hair. That boy was Arnold, but he was not longer a boy. He was a man, a man who had changed. He was a man much like herself, with the same views, the same cold indifference to everything. A person afraid to show their emotions, afraid to say that they loved someone, for fear that it might make them seem weak. A person who felt unnatural to be happy. A person who did not believe in anything, and there for was willing to sacrifice nothing. And now she saw the plain truth, that she loved the boy, not the man. Now she knew why she felt so strongly for Noah. Noah was what Arnold had been once, for what she once loved Arnold. Because she could not bring the boy with the cornflower hair back, she searched for an alternative. She found it in Noah, and suddenly, she wanted him to be there with her.  
  
-----Maybe you'll come-----  
  
She knew she had to tell him, so she did.  
  
"Arnold," she said slowly, "I can't do this anymore."  
  
-----To finish singing our song-----  
  
And now, she was running through the streets, her eyes were wet, her body was shaking on the inside. She was silently weeping, feeling her inner conscious fill to the rim, feeling as if she would explode from what had happened seconds earlier.  
  
-----On the boulevards are wet umbrellas-----  
  
He looked at her in disbelief, as if it was hard to fathom what it was that she was saying.  
  
"You're kidding, right?"  
  
"No," she said, "I'm sorry, I cannot explain it to you---I---" She felt feint.  
  
"You better fucking explain it to me!" he exclaimed, making her shake. Their eyes met and she felt as if she were about to melt.  
  
"What do you care, anyway?" she said slowly, "I'm leaving in a week, two days after Phoebe's marriage. And then we'll never see each other again anyway."  
  
"Oh, alright. That's what I was to you then? A one week attraction?"  
  
"No!" she exclaimed, "You got it all wrong---I---I mean---wasn't that what I was to you?"  
  
"No," he said, "no that's not what you were to me, because when I heard your heart beating just now, I felt like the happiest man alive. Thank you, Helga, thank you very fucking much."  
  
-----Above the river are wet bridges-----  
  
"What?" she exclaimed, angry now, "You fucking liar! All your life you've been chasing after that little twerp Lila, you never cared about me. Did two years ago never occur to you? When you promised me the world, when all the while you were after hurting me? And for what? For something my father did to your grandfather thirteen years ago!"  
  
-----A yellow flame is shaking in the dark-----  
  
"Don't start with that!"  
  
"Don't start with that? You expect me to forget? I loved you once, but I don't love you anymore and that bothers you. So stop pretending, because I'm not putting up my heart to be broken again!"  
  
-----It's a taxi-----  
  
"You stupid bitch!" he exclaimed, "You think you can live without me? Is that why every time you promise never to return you come back and fucking let me fuck you all over again? Don't you get it? You can't live without me!"  
  
-----I know you're still waiting for me-----  
  
  
  
"I can live without you!" she screamed, her heart racing, "I'm going to live without you!"  
  
"Please!" he laughed, "You're madly in love with me, you always were and you always will be. You're pathetic!"  
  
-----But love is flying away-----  
  
  
  
"No!" she screamed, "You are!"  
  
"I am?" he smiled, "You're saying that I'm pathetic? I'm sorry honey, but I did not spend my entire lifetime being devoted entirely to you. From the time I was nine years old I did not consider you my 'first love' or something like that---that speech you made to me. You're nothing to me, you never were and you never will be."  
  
"Then I'm going to go, and never see you again, good bye!"  
  
-----You cannot return it-----  
  
He grabbed her by the arm, spinning her around. Some sort of impulse did not allow him to let her go. He could not stand the sight of her, walking out on him, slamming the door. He could not stand it.  
  
-----I'm not crying it's only the rain-----  
  
  
  
"Let go of me!" she screamed, "Let go of me!"  
  
"No!" he replied.  
  
"Why not?" sobbed, "why can't you just let me go? I'm trying to escape you, Arnold, please, just let me go!"  
  
"Look at you! You are so depressing, you are so painful to even look at! What does he see in you?"  
  
And then she realized what Noah saw, what made her perfect in every way.  
  
"He sees something that you can't!" she screamed and he fixated on her.  
  
"Oh really?" he asked sarcastically, "And what is that? What can he possibly know about you that I don't?"  
  
"He knows that I am a human being, and he respects me because I am a human being," Helga exclaimed, "And he doesn't care who I am or what I have done because those types of things do not matter to him. He is capable of forgiving! And he is kind and pure and gentle, and he is ready to sacrifice everything for what he believes, and he believe into everything. He is everything I am not, and that's why I love him, and he is everything you are not, and that's why I don't love you!"  
  
-----I'll try to forget you-----  
  
He fell silent. Suddenly, the reality of the situation began to sink in to Arnold too. Time had passed, and everything had changed, and he realized that Helga loved someone who did not exist until she met Noah. Arnold was but a ghost of her past, only the villain in the love story, the one evil spirit that came between the two happy lovers.  
  
-----What can I do? -----  
  
But he didn't want that, he wanted to be the hero, he wanted her to love him, he was not used to her not feeling anything for him. She was, after all, the only woman who ever did care. She was the only real thing left in his life, the only hopeful promise for a future of honesty and happiness. Without her, there was only a secession of nameless, faceless women, women who did not care about him, women for whom he could never care. What had he done? Over and over her repeated the same mistake. Helga was not pathetic, Arnold was.  
  
-----I need to live on-----  
  
And suddenly, he wanted to tell her that he loved her, he wanted to tell her that she meant everything in the world to him. But she wouldn't have believed him, she wouldn't have accepted him. She would have said that he was trying to trick her again, she would have said that this was yet another evil plot of his to run her down into the mud. He'd broken her heart twice before, and she would never trust him with it again. So, Arnold decided not to say to Helga what he wanted to say. He felt that her rejection would damage his pride. He couldn't let that happen, he couldn't let her last memory of him be negative, a broken down man, who wanted her but couldn't have her.  
  
-----And it doesn't matter whose fault it was-----  
  
So he released her, silently bidding her goodbye, and she ran away, not once turning back.  
  
-----I walk the streets alone-----  
  
And she was crying. She ran across the street, feeling him still on her, still smelling his cologne, still experiencing the sensation of him being inside of her. But she could not let that thought overshadow reality. Did she not establish only moments ago that she felt nothing for him anymore? After all, he felt nothing for her. Where could their relationship possibly go? After all, she loved Noah. She loved him. She loved him. She loved him. And it didn't matter that she had to repeatedly tell herself that. And it didn't matter that not once did she feel entirely convinced.  
  
-----Our unsaid words form a wall-----  
  
It was over with Arnold, it was but a distant memory, she could not hold on to it, she left it all behind. But why did it still hurt so much? Why did she still feel so hopelessly hopeful when she should have simply stopped, and politely whispered---  
  
-----Good Bye-----  
  
  
  
  
  
-----La la Fa-----  
  
And Noah was waiting for her now, still sitting in the hotel room, still not going out and seeing the sun and smelling the roses.  
  
-----These notes-----  
  
He was waiting, but she didn't want to go to him.  
  
-----La La Fa-----  
  
She did not want anything, she wanted to disappear, or become a bird, and never have to go back  
  
-----Loneliness-----  
  
Life became like a dream, a dream from which she could never awaken.  
  
-----We can't bring back anything now-----  
  
She walked the streets in sadness, soaked under the rain, her high heels clinking sadly.  
  
-----La La Fa-----  
  
Eternal Heartbreak, she would never be fulfilled, never be happy. She loved someone and hated them simultaneously.  
  
-----So sad-----  
  
  
  
  
  
Nothing could save her now, she was all alone in this world, she did not know which way to turn, she had nowhere to go.  
  
-----La La Fa-----  
  
  
  
  
  
It was all like a distant memory, like she'd seen all this before, like it was just reoccurring madness.  
  
-----As a goodbye-----  
  
  
  
  
  
And the only thing on her mind was the last thing she should have considered.  
  
  
  
  
  
-----Maybe you'll come-----  
  
  
  
  
  
The last person she should have considered.  
  
-----To finish singing this song-----  
  
Arnold. 


	8. Chapter Eight

Sorry for the long wait, so much things to do, so little time! All right, poll of the----months in this case  
  
This time it is about that story that I am writing. As we all know, most writers are prostitutes who write about things they think other people want to read. Well, let me get some feedback, huh?  
  
I try to expand on the lives of other characters in my story (Lila, Gerald, Phoebe), and I attempt to give them depth. For instance, I don't make Lila completely horrible, she's just a girl too pretty for her own good. And I don't make Gerald either a Saint or a Devil, he's somewhere in between. As for Phoebe, I think the poor girl deserves some happiness in life. Now the question is: Do the readers actually care what happens to the other characters or are you all more like Helga/Arnold/nobody else matters, types of people?  
  
If you care........A  
  
If you don't care.......B  
  
If you kind of care but not really.......C  
  
If you care but you just don't like certain characters:  
  
Lila, that stupid bitch has to go, I don't care that pretty people have feelings too....D  
  
Gerald, he's got two girls in love with him. He needs to make up his damn mind about which he wants.....E  
  
Phoebe, enough said......F  
  
What about made up characters? Which of the following statements do you agree with?  
  
Noah, he's too stupid to be endearing and too cute to be repulsive....G  
  
Jonathan, has he ever even been in this story? He's always talked about but he's never actually there, bad move, Writeress, bad move......H  
  
Chapter 8  
  
It was a hot Wednesday afternoon, and Helga's life officially became a bleak succession of moments. She was uncertain of the date, or of the time. It didn't matter to her; nothing mattered to her. For minutes she lay on the bed, drenched in sweat, looking up at the slowly moving ceiling fan above her. It turned and made her quiver, the heat penetrated her from within. This was what she'd gone to, lying nude in bed, smoking a cigarette. Arnold's head was resting on her inner thigh; his eyes were closed. She knew he wasn't sleeping. He was only trying to escape waking up, looking her straight in the eye, and realizing that she was but a phantom of what he really wanted out of life. He was the same to her, or maybe he wasn't. Helga no longer knew what he was. All she knew was that she needed him, she craved him with ever fiber of her being. She was addicted; she was pathetic. Nothing mattered to her; she was ready to throw her life away for beastly emotion. She couldn't help herself. At first, Helga called it indulgence, but now she knew for certain that she was gorging.  
  
She was gorging on his sexuality, on his rough touch, on the feel of his hard body against hers. She was gorging on not having to pretend, on not fearing of shocking him. She liked that she could fight him, bite him, hurt him, and expect the same from him as well. She liked that she could fight a war in bed and get two satisfactions in one package, physical and emotional. With him, she loved being the loser as much as she loved being the winner; she loved it when he abused her as much as she loved to amuse him. She knew that someday they would kill each other, and that was the very death that she preferred.  
  
Helga thought about Noah, sweet, innocent Noah. Just the thought made her quiver, his awkward, vibrating body, his kind eyes, his soft voice. It all repulsed her to the highest extent until it had gotten to the point where she was ready to do anything to get but a moment of peace. She wanted him out of her life; she didn't want him there, never wanted him there. But he always remained the same pesky little insect, the same housefly that continued to buzz into her ear. She would have easily gotten rid of him, had it not been for Arnold and her mortal fear of being alone.  
  
If she had left Noah, she knew for certain that Arnold would lose all interest in her. In truth, for what other reason in the world would he want her? In bed, while inside of her, he would constantly remark on all the reasons why he would never wish to be with a woman like her. How she was the most hideous of all creatures on earth, and on how he pitied any man that was ever going to love her. An ordinary woman would leave him for that, but Helga was no ordinary woman. She loved that Arnold hated her, she loved it because, on some level, she always hated herself.  
  
She liked that he didn't love her. She liked that he wasn't ill with emotion towards her frame. She liked that he did not shower her with compliments or petty comments. She liked that he could hurt her and not care. She liked that she was allowed to be cruel. She liked that she could speak to him without restraint. She liked that she could be funny or sardonic, and that when his flesh rubbed against her own neither felt any true fulfillment. She loved that they were never innocent, and didn't have to be. She liked that she did not need to lie to him, as a result lying to herself. She liked that she could exhibit all bad habits, all bad manners, without the fear of being judged. She liked that she could see him for what he was, a heartless beast who called himself a man, and that was what she wanted. She liked that he would never care if she cried or offer a shoulder when her wounds were too deep for self-sustained locomotion. She loved it with all of her heart, and she was never going to lose it.  
  
Time began to mount up on her. She told Noah that she wanted to stay in her hometown, he, being the weakling in her eyes that he was agreed. The two quit their old firm in England and began working for a new, less successful one in town. Though they were still in a large amount of money, their ambitions no longer soared high. Helga no longer thrived on competition, she no longer cared that she was neglecting herself, neglecting her fiancee, or the wedding day that was being pushed back for weeks, and eventually months. Helga didn't care about anything any more. Only one thing mattered.  
  
She believed in satisfaction, fast, brutal, quick satisfaction. Her world revolved around Arnold's long, stiff axis. In this new order, human beings were not born to love, they were not born to hate, they were not born to feel anything at all except for an instinctive urge to mate with the fittest, with the most appealing member of the opposite sex. Helga was born to fuck and then regret it, and she was perfectly content with that.  
  
"You're not asleep," she sighed, "Stop pretending."  
  
He opened his eyes and looked at her, "You're smoking in my bed."  
  
"Yes," she admitted.  
  
"You're going to destroy the sheets," he said, not moving.  
  
"I know," She nodded, extinguishing the cigarette into an ashtray next to her, "but who cares, you're going to throw them out now that I lay in them anyway, right?"  
  
He paused, studying her with a strange look, "Right."  
  
"So," she continued, "What were you pretending to dream about?"  
  
"You. It was a nightmare."  
  
She chuckled, "Was I an enjoyable pillow for you?"  
  
"Worst night's sleep I've had in years."  
  
"Worst night's sleep you've pretended to have in years," she corrected him.  
  
"What can I say," he said, "it's pretty bad both ways."  
  
He began to kiss up her body, over her breasts until his face came in close proximity to hers. They stared at one another, unsure of what to do.  
  
"You're allowed to kiss me if you want," She sighed.  
  
"Would you mind if I accidentally threw up all over you?"  
  
"Nah," she shook her head slightly, "I get thrown up on all the time."  
  
"You look like it," he said, pressing his lips against hers and burying his tongue inside of her mouth. His hands dug into her body and she vibrated underneath his touch. After a long, drawn out moment of liplock they finally subsided.  
  
"You didn't throw up," she said.  
  
"The shock got to me," he replied.  
  
She tried to push herself out from underneath him, "I have to go now."  
  
"Go where?" he asked as he watched her awkwardly hop out of bed.  
  
"Where do you think?" She asked, putting on her bra, "Home to my husband dearest."  
  
"He's not your husband."  
  
She paused, staring at him, "Not yet."  
  
He fell back on the bed, "And suppose you didn't go?"  
  
"Didn't go?" She asked, dressing in her blouse.  
  
"Suppose I didn't let you go."  
  
She sighed, annoyed, "I would go anyway."  
  
He got out bed, putting his strong arms around her shoulders and smelling her hair, "I'm not letting you go."  
  
She smiled, trying to pry out of his arms, but it didn't work. She tried harder, moving her thin body away, laughing hysterically, as he held her, his breathing hard. She stopped for a moment, hoping to fool him, and then ran forward at the top of her abilities. It didn't work. She was overpowered by his strength. He walked back and fell on the bed, she landed astride. In this position they remained for a moment, before they started rolling on the bed, kissing one another urgently.  
  
When it was all over, they lay on the bed, still, without movement. His clasp was hard around her, she could hear his heartbeat.  
  
"Arnold," she whispered.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"How can you do that?" Helga suddenly felt the urge to know.  
  
"Do what?" he asked.  
  
"Do that," she paused, "hold me so close like that---" she stumbled, "as if I mean something to you---as if you're afraid to let me go."  
  
His fists suddenly clenched and he opened his mouth, wanting to say something but he stopped himself. It was almost as if he had to fight against himself as he pried open his arms and got out of bed.  
  
"Maybe it is time for you to go."  
  
She lay on her side, leaning her head on her hand, "Yes," she said, "It is time."  
Arnold was in distress. After she had left he found himself feeling strangely. It was wrong that when he was with her he could not trust himself. He was holding himself back, lying, trying everything only to keep her from understanding the truth. Then again, he, himself, did not understand the truth. Suddenly, he was itching from within. He needed to see her again, see her in long continuums, even in intervals. He needed her there constantly, because only then did he feel like he was truly alive.  
  
But why did she make him feel this way? What was it about her struck such chords within him? It was no secret that he wanted her, he always wanted her, he was born to want her. What was a secret to him was why. He never understood the connection he had with this woman. She was just an ordinary woman, much like all the women in the world. What was she besides that? Some girl that he went to school with, a girl whose heart he once broke, a girl that, somehow, beyond his peripheral vision, transgressed into a woman fully capable and willing to break his heart.  
  
He was invited to a benefit, some obscure cause that had little importance in the elite gossip section of all the city magazines. It was only well pronounced that everyone who was anyone was invited. FBH, Inc, Arnold's firm, was the most powerful in the city. As a top attorney, Arnold was hunted with invites. Helga, as well, would be there. He knew that for certain because he had seen her name on the list of invitees. Lila was invited as well due to her husband's importance, but for 'personal reasons' the couple was unable to attend. For weeks Arnold's invitation lay untouched on his desk. He did not know if he wanted to go. It was a night of promising boredom. Nonetheless, he felt a sudden inclination, and at that moment he knew that he had to go, he had to go and see her. He had to see Helga. He had to convince himself that his deepest fears were not coming true.  
  
He stood inside of the building, crowded with dashing men in tuxedoes and ladies in their posh gowns. But in this world nothing attracted him, nothing except for the hope that she would show up. He walked the room of banquet tables for minutes, fearing that he was out of luck and without a date at one of the social highlights of the year. Luckily, his fears subsided when he saw Noah walk through the door, hand in hand with the most beautiful woman Arnold had ever seen in his whole entire life.  
  
She stood tall in her red gown, gently hugging her body. Her pale, porcelain skin provided an intense contour of her waist as her thin, wavering arms fell across her body. Her head was slightly raised, as her soft blonde hair fell across her bare shoulders. Her large, clear blue eyes shone throughout the room and her soft lips, colored in light red lipstick, gently curved up to reveal a beautiful smile. Arnold was penetrated, perplexed, and at that very moment he loved and hated simultaneously.  
  
She spotted him across the room and looked away immediately. She hid in a crowd of people, restraining herself from his view. He sighed in desperation, knowing that as long as Noah was by her side, he had no chance of isolating her all to himself.  
  
"Arnold," he felt a light hand on his shoulder and he turned to see Lila.  
  
"Lila," he said, "I thought you weren't coming."  
  
"Oh I decided to go," she sighed, "no use siting at home."  
  
The truth was that Jonathan didn't want to miss out on a chance to mingle with potential clients.  
  
"It's very spur of the moment," Arnold smiled.  
  
"Yes," she sighed, "I know."  
  
An awkward silence followed.  
  
"So," Lila spoke, "is Gerald here?"  
  
Ordinarily, Arnold would feel jealousy, hate, spurn. Ordinarily, his mood would be ruined and he would feel utterly desperate. Yet, somehow, he no longer cared. It was Lila's life, it was Lila's heart. But he didn't want it anymore, he didn't care. She had slowly waded out of his life. He had fallen out of love with her. Suddenly, Arnold realized that Lila was not reality. She was a but a dream he had once had. He remembered what she said to him that dreadful night on the rooftop.  
  
"You don't love me---" She said that night, "You love the image of me, the happy little girl that makes home life easy and can make all of your wishes come true. Yes, I think you really do love her. But that's not me. I hate to break it to you, Arnold, but you're in love with a woman that doesn't exist."  
  
He struggled against that, and suddenly he understood that she was right. He couldn't have loved Lila because he didn't know Lila. In truth, he didn't know any woman he had ever been with or cared for. Any woman save one.  
  
And then he remembered something else she said that night.  
  
You're blinded, Arnold, and of all the greatest things I could ever wish for you, is that you find yourself a woman that cures your eyesight. I woman who is more than a perfect package for you. A woman who has flaws that you can see, but are willing to over look because you love her, truly love her."  
  
And suddenly, his secret was revealed, suddenly he understood the pain he felt within, the confusion, the exasperation. He understood everything and he cursed himself for not seeing it before. He was in love with Helga G. Pataki, madly, hopelessly in love.  
  
"Look who it is!" he suddenly heard a familiar voice. He turned and saw Noah, with the same sweet smile, and the same hopeless innocence. Next to him stood Helga, reluctant to look up into Arnold's eyes.  
  
"We were just looking around and I saw you," Noah laughed, "You won't believe this pretty little lady's laziness, she didn't want to walk across the room to greet you if her life depended on it. And then I said to her, 'Where are your manners' and she said---" he continued to blab on.  
  
Helga stopped following his words. She was too deeply consumed by Arnold's penetrating gaze. At that point he knew that she needed to speak to him the same way that he needed to speak to her.  
  
"I'm going to go on the terrace and have a smoke," Arnold cut in.  
  
"Oh I'll join you!" Noah exclaimed.  
  
"No!" Helga quickly cut in, "Darling, I know how much you dislike cigarette smoke. You stay here with---" she pretended not to know the beautiful redhead's name.  
  
"Lila," she provided.  
  
"Lila," Helga continued, "All right?"  
  
"All right," He smiled, kissing her on the lips. At that moment Arnold wanted to kill him, but he restrained his emotions.  
  
The two quickly walked to the terrace.  
The terrace was empty and the evening was warm. The sky was clear and you could see the blurry outline of the pale, glorious moon shining above them. The bright lights of the city overshone the stars. Light zephyr rubbed against them, and it served as a sort of aphrodisiac.  
  
"We can't do this anymore," she was the first to speak, "we're going to get caught sooner or later."  
  
"You're making it sound like what we're doing is criminal," he said.  
  
"It is," she nodded impulsively, "to a man like Noah it is."  
  
"A man like Noah?"  
  
"He's never going to forgive me for this," she leaned on the terrace, "if he finds out he'll never forgive me."  
  
"That little monk in there?" Arnold laughed, "please, he'll forgive Satan."  
  
"It's wrong for you to talk like that," she said calmly, guilt in her voice, "you and I can only hope to be as good a people as him."  
  
"Never use 'hope' and 'him' in the same sentence, the man is hopeless."  
  
She turned to him, and he could see her eyes were wet. She was crying. Instinctively he walked to her and encased her in his arms. She buried her head into his chest and sobbed gently.  
  
"It's okay," he whispered into the crown of her head, "It's okay, don't cry."  
  
"It's wrong, Arnold," She whispered, "it's wrong and I know it. Why do I continue to do it? Why do I do this to myself?"  
  
"Helga, there's nothing wrong with---"  
  
"Everything is wrong. Noah is the only man that's ever loved me, that's ever cared for me. What am I doing with you? What am I thinking?"  
  
"Helga-" he tried.  
  
"No," She shook her head, looking up into his face, "don't you understand? I am going to die alone, I am going to grow old and regret this moment, and every moment that I had ever spent with you."  
  
"Is that it?" he asked bitterly, "Is that how you feel about me? You regret every moment?"  
  
"No," she cried, "No, that's what bothers me, that I don't regret any of it, that had I had the chance, I would do the same thing over again, without any hesitation."  
  
"I don't understand---"  
  
"No, you don't understand! You don't need to understand. When you decide it's time for you to settle down, it will all come easy. But I'm going to lose everything and never gain it back. I can't let that happen to me, Arnold, I just can't let that happen."  
  
"What are you saying, what do you mean?"  
  
"I mean," she paused, "I mean that I can't throw everything away for someone who doesn't care about me, someone to whom my existence is of no importance. I want someone to love me, Arnold. I know that sounds---"  
  
He did not let her finish, he pulled her face up to his and kissed her intensely on the lips She melted underneath his grasp, she found her body shaking again inside of his embrace. It was the first time he had ever kissed her this way, and she knew it was the last time. She was going to tear away from him, run away, go back to England, never look back again. She was going to marry Noah, start a family, try to drown herself in life and never think about Arnold again. She was going to do all that in a moment, just another moment, just another second to spend with him before a crushed eternity.  
  
"Helga---" and it was over.  
  
The two broke apart and looked at the entrance. There, with a look never exhibited before on his face, stood Noah. If he had only come a second later he would have missed it, he would have pretended to be blind, pretended no to see anything. But he was there, it was staring him in the face, and as much as Helga couldn't lie to him about it, he couldn't lie to himself.  
  
"Noah!" She exclaimed but he had nothing to say to her.  
  
He turned and quickly paced back into the room. Helga began to run toward him until Arnold grabbed her, trying to calm her emotions. She shook relentlessly in his arms, trying to pry herself lose, trying to get out of his grip, out of his life.  
  
"Let me go!" She screamed.  
  
"Only if you calm down."  
  
"Fine," she said, stopping, "I'm calm."  
  
He loosened his grip and she quickly ran for the door again. He grabbed her by the waist and spun her around, "It's okay," he said, "who cares if the dickless bastard left."  
  
"I hate you," was all she could utter.  
  
With all her might she slapped him across the face, catching him off guard. He released her for a moment and she sprang into the room, too fast for him to get to her. Arnold watched her disappear within the crowd.  
  
There he was again, standing with a wound too deep to mend, completely alone. 


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter 9  
  
Helga rushed into the apartment, dreaming that he would still be there. He was.  
  
He was packing his bags, getting ready to leave. With her eyes widened, she followed his every move, trying to understand why he was doing this, why he was trying to get away, why he wasn't worshipping her.  
  
"What are you doing?" she asked quickly, "Noah where are you going?"  
  
He turned and faced her, yet there was no recognition in his gaze. It was as if Noah was staring at a stranger. On some level, he really was.  
  
"I'm going back to England," he said calmly.  
  
"But---" she closed her eyes tightened her knuckles, "but you can't go."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because---because you're engaged to me!"  
  
His lips flickered for a moment, "Not anymore."  
  
She stared at him, transfixed, afraid to believe what he had said. This had to be a joke, this could not have been real, otherwise she would lose her mind, jump out of the window, do anything just to escape the brutal reality that she was going to be alone again.  
  
"Not anymore?" she whispered, "You're kidding."  
  
"It is not my habit to joke like that."  
  
"Noah, I need you, and I cannot see you walk away," her mind was in hysteria and yet she could not bring herself to cry.  
  
"I'm leaving, you have to accept that because that's the way things are," he continued coolly.  
  
"Don't say that's the way things are, things are the way you make them!" she screamed.  
  
"Exactly, Helga, and you've made things this way."  
  
"Noah you were going to marry me, you've loved me, you can't just fall out of love with me over---"  
  
"---A silly little thing like this? Is that what you were going to say?" he interrupted.  
  
"I'm sorry, Noah," she cried, "I'm so sorry."  
  
"You fell in love with someone else, I cannot blame you for that, so I am just going to walk away."  
  
"Don't you understand, you moron?" She screamed, "if it was his love I was after I wouldn't be apologizing to you! But you did love me, I know you did, so how can you be standing there, looking me in the face and saying that you don't---"  
  
He shook his head "Yes, I loved you, Helga. I trusted you, I held you higher than anything else I had ever known because I had believed that you were an honest woman, worthy of all my praise and respect and affection. More and more I am beginning to realize my poor judgment of character."  
  
"So what you're saying is you disrespect me?"  
  
"Oh, Helga, why can't you understand? I don't give a fuck about you anymore, so how can I disrespect you if I don't care?"  
  
"You don't give a fuck about me? You know what then? Fuck you!" she screamed.  
  
He picked up his suitcase and began to walk. And suddenly she remembered that she didn't want him to leave.  
  
"Noah," she held on to his shoulders, breathing in his scent, trying to keep him from getting away, "Noah, darling I'm so sorry, please stay for a little bit longer, please don't let it all end like this."  
  
He stopped and turned to her, their face in close proximity.  
  
"Why can't you understand?" he finally spoke, but his voice was no longer calm or cool, "Why do you have to do this? Don't you understand that life can't always work out the way you want it to?"  
  
"I don't want to understand," she whispered, burying her head in his chest, "please, just put your arms around me and tell me that everything is going to be okay."  
  
He didn't do as she asked.  
  
"Helga, you are such a child. How can I ask you to understand? Asking you to understand is like trying to knock down a mountain with your fists."  
  
"I was going to end it between us today. I was going to tell him I chose you, that I was going to marry you. If you hadn't walked in at that moment-- -"  
  
"Then what?" he exclaimed, "What would you do then? Live out the rest of your life not telling me?"  
  
She let go of him and stared into his eyes. She didn't know what to say.  
  
"Please answer my question, Helga."  
  
"Well, I---"  
  
"And tell me the truth."  
  
She paused, "No, I wouldn't have told you. But only because I knew that this would be how you would react."  
  
"You're right, Helga. This is how I would react. But I am a grown man, and I don't want to be thought of as a fool while my wife lives out continuous liaisons."  
  
"Take me back, Noah, and I promise that we will never have this conversation again."  
  
"We'll never have this conversation either way," he said, "the truth is that you cannot change your ways and I don't expect you to. You don't know what you want, or maybe you do, but I'm obviously not it."  
  
"You coward," she whispered, "You tell me you don't care, but how else can you explain that in your eye?"  
  
He dried it away, "At a certain point in my life, everything in existence seemed like a possibility. But that is over now, my trust of the world around had vanished. I thought so much of you, I believed in you as the only one who could ever make me happy. I thought that perhaps I could do the same for you, my warm-hearted, brutally honest, comely little Helga. And then I see your true colors, and imagine how that made me feel. The truth is, I do not mourn the loss of you, I mourn the loss of a non- existent woman."  
  
"Oh yeah?" she screamed, angered by the world around her, "Then you don't deserve me, you idealistic bastard! Arnold was right about you, you're nothing more than a ---"  
  
He did not listen to her any longer. He began to walk away, out of the room, out of her life. Noah shut the door quietly, forceless, so characteristic of him.  
  
And then she was alone again, standing in the still silence of the room. Who would have thought that she would feel so dull after losing her only chance for happiness? 


	10. Chapter Ten

After going so long without updating, I finally decided that it's time for me to finish what I started. Whether you like the ending or you don't, my personal opinion that it is all total bullshit, but it's cute bullshit nonetheless. Well, this is the end of the era. The end!  
  
Chapter 10  
  
There are times when people live happilly ever afer, and times when they do not. There are times when good bye's are musts, and hello's are inevitable. There are times when kissing someone is equivalent to hurting them, and hurting someone is the same as loving them. People expess their emotions any way they see fit, and judging them for that is generally a bad idea.  
  
There is no such thing as a flawless human. Perfection is a state of being so far from reality that the combined efforts of the Id and the Superego cannot quelch the inner thirst of the individual. People are fucked up and that is just the way things are, and it is quite inevitable that they are doomed to love those who shun them most. One must accept these truths to achieve mental health, one must understand that no matter how bad things are, they can always get worse. And life does not end when the movie ends, when you close the book, when you put down your reading glasses at the end of a chapter. Life continues theoretically even for the sad, tortured souls in the novels, life continues for everyone until death. Happilly ever after, just like Perfection, does not exist. Existence is a chain of highs and lows, lows more frequent than highs, but in the end it's all worth it. And tears only make it that much easier to drift to more happiness. And today, the man you love might hate you, while tomorrow, a beautiful stranger might find your smile alluring although you've never even thought that way about your smile. And when one loses everything, the hardest thing to do is to keep on living, but it is also the most productive. And if everyone ever asks for advice, say simply, "Keep on living."  
  
Arnold showed up by Helga's door dressed in simple attire, his face with that forlorn ruggedness that she so admired. She stared at him for a moment, trying to understand why he had come. She knew deep down the reason. Before she even had to speak, before she had to ask what he was doing there, to pretend that she was angry, that she didn't still feel as she had always felt, that she still hadn't forgiven him, he cut the bullshit and he told her the truth.  
  
"I love you, Helga," he said, his voice no longer weak. He was flawlessly alive when he said these words to her, when her eyes teared a little and he wanted to hold her in his arms.   
  
She stood silently, watching his face, wanting to say something, but being speechless.  
  
"You were my first everything," he whispered and she opened her eyes wide, remembering herself saying something oddly similar. "You were my first reason, my first concern, my first untamed desire. You were my first kiss, Helga, the first time I felt safe in someone's arms. And I'm not poetic like you, I can't do certain things, or say certain things, and I'm probably going to betray you and I most deffinitely don't deserve, yet I can't stand the thought of losing you. And maybe we can't be happy together, maybe we'll kill each other before the day is over, but what would matter is not how it ends but how it begins. So let me hold this afternoon, and let me kiss you like I love you, and say sweet things to you and mean them. Let me make love to you and understand how much I have without first having to lose it. I'm not asking you to forget, Helga. Just forgive me, because your heart is pure and beautiful, and because you are beautiful and flawless and perfect, you are the height of what a woman can be, and should be. You are you know, you think you're not, and still you are."  
  
And he was back, all of a sudden. The boy that she had loved once when she was a little younger and a little dumber. And she remembered someone else saying what he had said to her, and she could only believe him. For it didn't matter to her if the world proclaimed her or despised her, as long as he loved her. For he did love her, he had admitted it, and she realized all of a sudden that she unconditionally loved him, that she never stopped loving him, only subdued it for a little while. And she knew that they probably wouldn't be unconditionally happy together, and she didn't care about unconditional happiness. And then she remembered all those fairy tales, and all those cliche quotes she'd heard so often recited by depressed women.  
  
Love means never having to say I'm sorry. Who do you turn to when the only person in the world who could stop you from crying is the one making you cry? Never frown, you don't know who's falling in love with your smile. The man who's worth your tears won't make you cry.   
  
There was so much she could say, and just as she was about to utter, "You had me at hello," he pulled her in his arms and kissed her on lips so passionately that she broke into tears against his embrace. He noticed it and wiped them away, stroking her cheek tenderly, looking deeply into her eyes.   
  
"I love you so much," she whispered, "I would make a joke about this being so corny right now if I didn't love you so much."  
  
He smiled and buried her in his arms, placing her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes and inhaled his aroma and for the first time realized how good he smelled. And even though after their happy ending they would go on to have many sad reprieves, Helga and Arnold would grow old together and understand that life is only futile when it is without love. Somewhere between breakfast and dinner, between the champagne and the wine, and the horrible hopelessness of eternity, they did live out the amount of happiness that they deserved, and they continued living, theoretically, after it was all over. What plagued the change within their subconscious was a matter too touchy to discuss, albeit to say that while some people change, others do not. What they suppressed as they grew from children into adults, they regained again within one another for, indeed, they knew one another as children. And while it could have ended with tears of despair, it ended with tears of happiness that marked the beginning of something new. Not everyone in the world achieves forgiveness, and those who do share the most happy moments in life. In truth, Arnold and Helga came to understand that happiness was not a cigarette, or a chocolate, or an orgasm, happiness was living those little moments in between, and having someone to hold when the going got tough. And while it is seductive to conclude that the happy ending was perpetual, it is the author's duty to end the struggle by saying only that the kept on living.   
  
THE END 


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